Art of Deception
by McAddicted
Summary: AU: Derek Shepherd is a successful restaurant owner, and one of Seattle's hottest bachelors. He is also hiding a secret about his past that he would prefer to keep buried. Meredith Grey is a newspaper reporter who is assigned to cover a story about him, and of course sparks will fly between them. Will she eventually discover his past? Or will his deception keep them apart?
1. Tragic Turn of Events

**So, it's been awhile since finishing my last story, and I hope that there's still a few of you out there following me to find this new story! Let's see, what can I say about this one...it's AU, it's MerDer, it's part drama, part romance, part mystery I guess.  
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**Premise: Derek is the owner of a hot new restaurant in Seattle - he's successful, he's charming, he's got everything he's ever wanted. He also has some secrets about his past that he prefers stay buried. His life is turned upside down by a tragic event, and Meredith is a newspaper reporter that is assigned to cover the story. She finds herself drawn to Derek, and they fall into a scorching affair despite her misgivings about what he may or may not have done. T****o some extent, the story is influenced by _'The Thomas Crowne Affair_' with Pierce Brosnan & Rene Russo - there's some serious sizzle in that movie.**

**I'm a little uncertain about your response to this fic, since Derek is a little darker than usual in this one, but I had this idea for the story and I hope you will enjoy it!  
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**Rating: Mature of course, and while I will try not to get too explicit...it will probably get steamy, so please read at your own discretion!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Greys Anatomy, or the characters therein, they belong to Shonda Rhimes & Co. This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain and amuse, so please read, enjoy and (most importantly) review!  
**

**Also big thanks to Ellie & Jill for your support and feedback as I've been working on this!**

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**Art of Deception  
Chapter One - Tragic Turn of Events  
**

It was late, nearly 2:30 in the morning when Derek Shepherd walked into his bedroom, shrugging out of his Armani suit jacket as he crossed the polished hardwood floor. He tossed it onto the bed, then undid the black onyx cufflinks at his wrists, and laid them on the nightstand. As usual, he was still jazzed from the evening's business; the restaurant had been busy and that always gave him a thrill.

As the owner Seattle's fabulously popular new restaurant _Ravish_, he was where he'd worked hard to get to for some time, and he loved every moment of his life. He may have done a few things that weren't exactly legal along the way to achieving this success, but that was all behind him. His home was modern and sleek, with soaring open beam ceilings and expanses of glass that looked out over the bay. He had powerful fast cars in his garage, along with the black and chrome motorcycle he'd just purchased, and he had a closet full of designer clothes tailored to fit him like a glove. He had his choice of women, who were charmed by his good looks; the thick black hair, the blue eyes, the lean body honed to perfection in the gym and playing squash. What more could a man ask for?

He splashed some Scotch into a glass and glanced out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wind was raising huge waves that lashed against the shoreline. It was a good night to be indoors, and he sipped his drink absently, happy to be there alone. While he was never short of feminine company, he very seldom brought anyone home. It was easier to love them and leave them, as he had done tonight with his latest paramour; no attachments, no expectations, just pure physical enjoyment. There was no room in his life for romantic entanglements.

Finishing the last of his drink, he set the glass aside and pulled his shirt open as he headed towards the shower. He could still smell the too strong perfume on his skin, and he needed to unwind under the multitude of sprays before trying to sleep. His cell phone stopped him before he started the water running, and he checked the display. "Damn it, what the hell d'you want now..." he muttered, before answering. "Gareth, I thought we finished discussing this. I'm not getting involved in your plan this time."

"Derek, listen to me...I did it, without you. But there's a problem..."

If there was one thing in his life that _was _a problem, it was Derek's younger brother, Gareth. He was not as ambitious as Derek, and didn't feel required to stay on the straight and narrow. As a result, Gareth often needed to be bailed out with cash to pay off his creditors. It was a source of never-ending aggravation for Derek, and he wished he could just ship Gareth off somewhere far away to grow up and deal with his own shit. In fact, he was close to the point of telling Gareth that, but he wasn't sure it would do much good. Before their mother passed away, Gareth had been the favorite son, every whim indulged, and he had never really been pushed to make anything of himself.

For now, Derek blew out an exasperated breath before speaking. "So, despite my warnings to the contrary, you went ahead and stole that painting, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I- I can't talk right now...I think there's someone following me. Can you come and meet me somewhere?" Gareth's voice was hushed, his breathing a little rapid.

"It's nearly 3 a.m., I'm not about to go out in this weather because you're paranoid. I'm sure this can wait until a more reasonable time." Derek turned the shower on, ready to end the call.

"But..."

"No, Gareth, I'm sure no one is after you, I taught you better than that. Call me tomorrow afternoon before I go to work. I'll meet you then, all right? Now go home and get some sleep." Derek ended the call without waiting for his brother to try and convince him of the urgency of his predicament. Resolutely, he put the phone aside on the counter and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He stepped into the shower, and the hot water hit him from every angle and he closed his eyes, as he let it wash away any tension in his body. He slicked his hair out of his eyes, and tipped his head back, enjoying the sensual feel of the water on his skin.

On the vanity, his cell phone vibrated again, and Gareth's number flashed on the screen before it faded away. Under the splashing water, Derek was unaware of the call, and by the time he was done, he went to bed without bothering to look at his phone again.

* * *

In the morning, he was sitting on the deck that overlooked the bay, enjoying the paper and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. The sun had come out and the sky was clear of all clouds, all traces of the previous night's storm erased completely. He had already been out for a morning run, and felt refreshed and energized as usual.

The cell phone at his elbow vibrated, and he groaned inwardly, anticipating Gareth's call again. He snatched it up, but the call display indicated a strange number. "Yes, Derek Shepherd speaking," he said brusquely, setting the paper aside.

"Mr. Shepherd, this is Detective Owen Hunt of the Seattle police."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes sir, I'm afraid there is. Are you available to speak with me right now?"

"Of course."

"Good. I'll be there in five minutes."

"What's this about?"

"I need to speak to you in person, sir."

Derek felt a chill at the words. "All right. I'll see you shortly then." He set his phone down, and took a deep breath. He hated dealing with the police; after all the years of keeping a low profile, he didn't feel comfortable speaking with them. Call it his self-preservation mode, or whatever you wanted, but it was never a good thing when the police came calling. It wasn't even five minutes later, and the doorbell chimed. His housekeeper was about to cross the foyer to answer it, when Derek intercepted her. "I've got it, Lucinda."

Standing on the front portico, surveying the elegant landscaping, was obviously Det. Hunt, dressed in a rumpled dark suit, holding his badge for Derek to see. He was broad shouldered, with close cropped red hair and a neat beard and moustache. His blue eyes were sharp and belied the rumpled appearance of his suit. "Mr. Shepherd?"

"Yes. Now what's this all about? Is it about my brother? Tell me, has he been arrested? Cracked up his car?" Derek crossed his arms, waiting for the news.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Gareth Shepherd was found this morning on the shore of Elliot Bay...an apparent drowning, but the coroner still needs to confirm that."

Derek stared at the detective, uncomprehending for a moment. "Drowned? There must be some mistake...you mean he's dead?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry for your loss. We identified him by his driver's license, but we need you to come and give a positive ID." Detective Hunt nodded shortly, waiting for a response.

"Damnit, this is unbelievable. I just talked to him last night."

Hunt consulted his notebook. "What time was that?"

Derek rubbed his jaw. "After 2:30, I think..."

"Time of death is estimated at 3:30 a.m., so you may have been the last person to speak to him. We'll need to ask you some questions as well."

"Wait, you think I had something to do with his death?" Derek asked sharply. "Just because I talked to him last? He's always calling at odd hours, and he was always in trouble. God knows how many people might have wanted him dead!"

"If you say so, sir. There was no cell phone on him when we found him, so there's no way to corroborate your statement at the moment. His phone records will, of course, be examined if it turns out foul play was involved. For now, you need to go to the morgue and we can go from there." Hunt tucked his notepad away, and nodded briskly. "I trust you'll be along shortly, or do I need to take you in?"

"I'll be right there, Detective. No need to have a police escort," Derek said curtly.

Once he had shut the door, Derek closed his eyes, feeling a wash of sorrow at the reality of what he'd just been told. Gareth had been a pain in the ass, but he had been the only family he'd had left, until now. Heading for his bedroom to get dressed, he glanced at the phone in his hand again, thinking about his conversation with Gareth, when he realized there had been a missed call shortly after that. Another from Gareth's cell phone, obviously after Derek had stepped into the shower, and now he wished he hadn't been so abrupt with Gareth. Shaking his head, he was about to set the phone on the nightstand, when it rang again.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Shepherd! Is it true your brother was found dead? Was he murdered? Any comments?"

"Who is this?"

"I'm a reporter from the Seattle Times...care to speak to us?"

"NO! Leave me alone!" Derek snapped. He shut his phone off and hurled it onto the unmade bed. The feeding frenzy was beginning.

* * *

"Grey! Get your ass in here!"

Mark Sloan looked over the group of reporters that crowded the open area of the Seattle Enquirer newspaper office, his eyes landing on the slim blonde who looked up from her computer screen at the sound of his shout. Meredith Grey was busy trying to finish typing a story for the next edition of the paper, and she frowned before turning back to the computer.

"What is it?" she asked, tapping a few more words out on the keyboard.

"I have something for you, get in here!" he repeated, waving her over.

She pushed away from her desk and got to her feet. "Fine, but you can explain why I don't have this piece done," she warned him, walking past him into the cluttered office. "You know the one about the dentist convention…everything you ever wanted to know about dental hygiene but were afraid to ask!"

"Fuck that," Mark grinned, dropping into the chair behind his desk, and resting his feet on the edge. "I have a much more interesting story for you to follow." He laced his fingers behind his head. He was toned and trim, wearing a dark cashmere sweater and black slacks, his manner easy and yet latently sensual. They had been involved once, but now they were just friends, or rather, boss and employee.

Meredith perched in the chair across from him. "Do tell…what is it now?" Their paper was not the mainstream one, but they managed to get a scoop from time to time that kept them more respectable than a gossip rag.

"You know who Derek Shepherd is?" he asked.

"Of course. He's the owner of that new restaurant everyone's talking about."

"Have you eaten there?"

"Are you kidding? On what I get paid here?" she scoffed, leaning back in the chair. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and crossed her legs. Her short skirt hiked up on her thigh, as she shifted in the chair.

"Well, you might get your chance. I'm putting you on the story to cover his brother's death," Mark grinned at her, grabbing a baseball from the desk to toss from hand to hand as he watched her reaction.

"What?" Meredith sat up excitedly. "When did that happen?"

"Last night. I got the story on the scanner. I think Shepherd's being taken in for questioning, so get down to the police station and see what you can find out. This is gonna be big!"

"You think he killed his brother?"

"Who knows? No matter what, he's a local celebrity and it's a great story, now get to it!"

Meredith jumped to her feet. "Yes, boss!"

"Just be careful, Grey. From what I hear, he's got women falling over themselves to sleep with him. Don't be fooled by his good looks."

"Who me? After you, who can measure up? I'm immune," she teased him, before making her escape, laughing to herself as he tossed the baseball towards the door she closed behind her.

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**Well...are you intrigued? Confused? Want more? Sound off in the reviews and let me know!**


	2. It's a Free Country

**I'm thrilled and grateful at the response to the first chapter - thank you all so much for the reviews, and for favoriting this story! I hope I can keep your interest as the story goes forward. **

**This chapter brings Derek and Meredith together, and how will that go..? **

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**Chapter Two  
It's a Free Country  
**

By the time Derek pulled into the parking lot at the building that housed the morgue and police station, he was angry and confused. He was still thinking about the call from Gareth that had come while he was in the shower. There hadn't been any voicemail, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had taken it, would his brother still be alive? If he had gone out to meet him, would things be different? Not to mention the small problem of the painting Gareth admitted to stealing; how did that fit into this mess? And worse, did the police think he had something to do with Gareth's death? With all of this on his mind, he stepped out of his Porsche, and immediately a horde of reporters descended on him.

"Mr. Shepherd! What happened to your brother?"

"Anything you can tell us?"

"No comment." He pushed past them, avoiding their outstretched microphones, keeping his sunglasses in place, and his expression neutral. At the door, he could see Det. Hunt waiting for him, and he dashed inside, where it was quiet compared to the babble outside. "Can't you do something about them?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Freedom of the press." Hunt shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "Come with me." They were silent as they made their way along the corridor. It only took a few moments to reach the sterile room where the coroner waited for them. Derek felt almost disconnected from the situation, until the moment the sheet was pulled away from the body. Nothing had prepared him for seeing Gareth lifeless and pale, his expression devoid of the usual smirk that meant he was up to no good.

"Yes, that's him. That's Gareth," he said quietly. "Did he suffer…?"

The coroner, a short black woman, looked at him across the table. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Shepherd. I'm Dr. Bailey, and I did the autopsy. Your brother was found in the water, but he wasn't drowned. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"All right. There are marks on his neck to indicate that he was strangled first and then left in the water. There was no fluid in the lungs. The killer likely assumed the body would be in the water longer before being found. The storm didn't work in the killer's favor, however; the waves were stronger than normal and washed Gareth up on the shore sooner. He was found early this morning by some kids out walking their dog on the beach."

"I see. I just can't believe this…"

"It's understandable, and I'm sure Det. Hunt will do his best to find who did this," Dr. Bailey said gently. "There are still some procedures we need to do before we can release him to the funeral home. But you can rest assured we will treat him with our utmost respect."

Derek nodded, but felt suddenly nauseous, from the smell of the room to the shock of seeing his brother's body. "I need to leave, are we done here?"

"We still need to talk. We can do that in my office, two floors up. I'll be right there," Hunt said, as he nodded to Dr. Bailey, who pulled the sheet back up over the body.

"Fine." Derek gave his brother a final look, and then turned on his heel and walked out into the hallway, keeping a firm control on his emotions. Thankful to be away from the scent of the morgue, he found the elevator, and pushed the call button impatiently several times.

"It won't come any faster that way." The soft feminine voice came out of nowhere, and he jerked his head around to see who it belonged to.

"It makes me feel better," Derek said, taking in her appearance. She was petite and slim, with delicate features and blonde hair that framed her face. Her outfit of a short black skirt, and figure hugging green sweater seemed out of place at the county building.

"I guess if you're in this building, you're not having the best of days anyway," she offered, giving him a little smile.

The elevator doors slid open, and Derek motioned for her to step in first. "That's an understatement. Going up?"

"Yes."

"Are you here for a meeting with one of the detectives?" Derek asked, feeling a need to take his mind off his reason for being there. "Or do you work here?"

"Mmm…neither, really," she said non-committally.

"Oh, you just hang out at police stations for fun?"

"Something like that. You meet the most interesting people," she laughed softly.

He leaned a little closer to her, enticed by the light fragrance of her hair, just as the elevator lurched to a stop. The sudden stop caused him to bump into her, catching her arm to keep his balance. For a split second, their eyes met; there was a sultry invitation there, and he could have sworn her breasts grazed his chest. His body tightened in immediate response, before he regained his usual control and backed away. Even though his blood pounded in his veins, and his thoughts were going places that were wrong at this time and place. "I'm sorry. This is my floor." He straightened his shirt cuffs, and stepped into the corridor, ready to dismiss their encounter.

"Mine too." Meredith followed him, admiring the impeccable way his suit was cut to fit him. He was even more devastatingly handsome than his pictures had made him out to be; his blue eyes were almost hypnotizing, and he exuded masculine confidence with every move he made. Being a reporter brought her in contact with a lot of men, most of them so full of their own importance they left her cold. This one might prove otherwise.

"I'm supposed to meet with Det. Hunt, so if you'll excuse me," he said, looking around for the right office.

"His office is down that way."

"Good, thanks."

"I can walk with you." They were quiet for a few paces. "You're Derek Shepherd, aren't you? I recognized you from the article about your restaurant in the last Life & Style magazine." She had also read the dossier that Mark had prepared for her; the bio, the background on education and career (which had been rather vague) and she tried to come up with something intelligent to say to keep him talking to her.

"Yes. Have you been there?" Derek knew he would have remembered seeing her come through the doors.

"Sadly no…little out of my price range!"

They reached Hunt's office, and before she could say anything else, Dr. Bailey hustled up to them, holding a sheaf of papers. "Ms Grey, what are you doing on this floor? You know you shouldn't be up here. Did that lovesick assistant of mine let you in the building?"

Derek looked at Ms Grey curiously for a moment, before glancing at the coroner. "Is there a problem, Dr. Bailey?"

"Damn right there is…she's a reporter for that trashy paper Seattle Enquirer. I'm sure she's up to no good."

"Mr. Shepherd, let me explain. I just want to ask you a few questions, get your side of the story. I swear, I'm not out to make you look like a villain!" Meredith was anxious to get something from him, before Hunt showed up. Just her luck that Miranda had spotted her first. And she hadn't counted on the fact that Derek was too damn hot and mesmerizing, making her a little tongue tied. She'd lost valuable time due to that.

"I have nothing to say, Ms Grey."

"You heard the man. You can leave now, and you can tell O'Malley that if he lets you in again, he won't be working here much longer." Dr. Bailey glared at Meredith; a look that made much lesser people quake in their shoes. Meredith was used to a lot of rejection in her line of work, and she stood her ground for a moment.

She fished a business card out of her purse and handed it to Derek. "Here's my card, call me if you want to talk to me about what happened."

Despite himself, Derek took the card, and their fingers touched for an instant before he pulled his hand away. He nodded briefly. "I'm sure there won't be any reason to tell you anything, Ms Grey." His eyes seemed cool as blue ice as he dismissed her, turning away to wait for Hunt. Whatever interest he might have had in her on a personal level was instantly gone in the revelation of her job.

"Fine. But things have a way of changing, Mr. Shepherd. You might want to talk, about anything…" Meredith turned away as well, silently berating herself for not getting anything from him.

At the main doors, she bumped into George O'Malley, the unfortunate assistant of Dr. Bailey, wearing green scrubs and a worried look on his face. He was obviously waiting for her, and stopped his nervous pacing as soon as he saw her. "George, you need to get back to the morgue. Bailey's not happy with you; she figured you let me in. I guess I shouldn't have talked you into it."

"Aw, crap…"

"Sorry, can I buy you a drink later? Make up for it?"

"I'll be at Joe's after my shift. See you then!" George sprinted away, before Meredith could say anything else.

* * *

"God, I blew it!" Meredith moaned to Mark when she got back to the office. "He was right there, and I completely lost it."

"You'll think of something else, Grey, I have faith in you. Just bat those big eyes of yours, use your feminine wiles on him."

"Seriously?"

"As I recall, it worked on me…" Mark smirked.

"Have I told you lately you're an ass?"

"So often I take it as a term of endearment." He grinned at her over his coffee cup.

Meredith resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Not only that, I owe George a drink for letting me into the building."

"Aw, you know he has a crush on you, Grey...that's why you take advantage of him."

"It's not really taking advantage," Meredith rationalized, "he's more like an inside source."

"Well, buy him that drink and see if he's got any information about the autopsy, we can run with a few generalities until you can get close to Shepherd. Stay on top of this, Grey."

Meredith stood up, and gave him a mock salute. "Whatever you say...and make sure to authorize my expense report when I hand it in!"

"Fine, just don't go overboard," Mark agreed, rolling his eyes. "We're on a budget, you know!"

* * *

"Did Bailey give you hell about me?" Meredith asked, once she and George were settled into a booth at Joe's bar. It was a small place, nothing trendy, but it was close to both the city building and Seattle Grace Hospital.

"Yeah, she chewed me out," George admitted.

"God, I'm so sorry, I didn't expect to run into her."

"It's okay. If she doesn't yell at me at least once a day I think there's something wrong!" George laughed, before taking a swallow of his beer. "Did you talk to Shepherd?"

"For a few minutes, but then Bailey butted in. I didn't get any information from him. I don't suppose you could take a look at the autopsy report and text me a few details?" Meredith coaxed him.

"I don't know. Bailey keeps everything on her computer, and I don't have access."

"No hard copies?"

"Nope, only in the case of court orders. I wish I could help you, Mer," he said, shrugging.

"You tried, and I'm buying your beer. Maybe something will come up later," she reassured him. Then she leaned in to kiss his cheek, making him flush in surprise.

"What was that for?"

"For just being a good guy, George." She knew he had a crush on her, ever since they'd bumped into each other when she'd been researching another story. He was more a like a little brother to her than anything, even if he was constantly trying to impress her in the vain hope she would go on a date with him.

"Thanks, Mer. You look great tonight, by the way." His voice was overly casual, but she grinned at him again, accepting the compliment. She'd decided to stop by Derek's restaurant after this, just to see what the place was like. Mark would likely give her hell over the extra expense, but it would be worth it. For the mission, she'd dressed in a clingy red dress, something she was sure would draw Derek's attention to her. Maybe then she could talk with him, without being intercepted.

"I'm heading over to Ravish, see what the place is like." Meredith tossed back the shot of tequila in front of her in preparation to leave.

"Wearing that?" George sputtered, nearly spitting out his beer.

"I hope to make an impression on Mr. Shepherd. You think he'll like it?"

"B-but..." George had read enough about Derek Shepherd's lifestyle in the papers to know that the man was dangerous and far removed from his own reserved personality. If Meredith was going out to meet him there was no way he could compete with someone like that.

"It's okay, George, I can take care of myself." Meredith patted his arm. "But you're sweet to worry about me. I'll be in touch, and you be sure and call me if you find out anything more about Gareth's autopsy findings."

"Sure..." he sighed, watching her walk away, leaving the usual whiff of lavender in her wake.

* * *

Derek surveyed the evening crowd at the restaurant with satisfaction. It was still busy, even though some of the patrons were giving him sidelong glances. He wondered if the gossip had begun already. He had spent far too long with Hunt, being grilled about his own whereabouts last night. It was all very exhausting, and he wanted it over and done with. He'd come too far to let his past life come back to haunt him.

Across the room, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair and for a second he thought it was that woman he'd met earlier. He was two steps forward, when he realized it wasn't her, and he shook his head in irritation. What was wrong with him? It wasn't the time to be chasing after a woman he'd barely met, let alone a reporter on top of that.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out quickly, recognizing the ringtone. "Anya, this isn't the time. I thought we agreed you weren't going to call me at work."

"I know, darling, but you need to watch the news. You're the lead story, and it has nothing to do with the restaurant," she informed him. "What's going on?"

"What?" Derek headed into his office, and turned on the flat screen mounted on the wall. He quickly flipped to the local news report, and groaned inwardly. "Damn, I have to go. I'll talk to you later." There on the screen, was the news of Gareth's death, along with his own picture as brother of the deceased, and a shot of the exterior of the restaurant. Then it flashed to a shot of Det. Hunt speaking with reporters outside the station. He caught the end of the newscaster's words, intoning solemnly that the death was suspicious and no other information was available at this time.

"Godamnit..." he muttered, raking his hand through his hair before flicking the TV off and storming back into the bar area. He did a double-take again, seeing another fall of blonde hair and then he heard a familiar voice. Before he could stop himself, he stalked over to where she was talking to someone at the bar.

"Ms Grey, I see you've found your way here after all," he said quietly. She had exchanged her earlier outfit for a clinging red dress that was even more distracting than her sweater, and short enough to display a length of leg that should've been against the law. She tipped her head back to look up at him, her wide grey-green eyes fringed with lashes longer than he remembered. Then his gaze dropped to the cleavage of her dress, seeing the clear outline of her nipples beneath the fabric, and his body whipped into immediate desire. Just as she had calculated, he realized, noting her small smile of triumph when he dragged his eyes back to her face.

"Mr. Shepherd, I thought you had nothing to say to me," she observed, before sipping the glass of champagne in front of her.

"I don't."

"Then why are you?"

"Why am I what?"

"Speaking to me now... try and keep up, hmmm?" she teased him, running the tip of her finger along the rim of her glass.

"It's not the same thing, and you know it. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to come and get a feel for the place. You know, some background for my story about you. And may I say, it certainly lives up to the praise I've heard. These crab bites and brie are delicious," she told him, indicated the plate of partially eaten appetizers. "I assume you don't have a problem with me being here?"

"It's a free country, Ms Grey. You can do whatever you please."

"Really...? That sounds like an invitation to misbehave," Meredith teased him. "Are you sure I can't convince you to tell me your side of the story?" She rested her hand on his arm, and met his eyes again.

Derek shook her hand off his sleeve. "Quite sure."

"Then you might not like what I write."

His mood already annoyed, Derek clenched his fists to keep from grabbing her and pulling her against him. Something about her little taunt made his body tighten even further in erotic anticipation, but he leaned in closer without touching her. "Ms Grey, don't threaten me...you have no idea what happened with my brother, and you should be careful what you say. I can sue you and that gossip rag you work for so fast you won't know what hit you. Stay away from me." While he maintained an outwardly professional façade, his tone of voice was dangerously cold. He lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes raking over her, noting the flush that had risen on her skin. He caught the same floral scent on her skin, mingled with her own feminine essence, and the combination was intoxicating. Deliberately, he backed away, putting space between them to keep himself focused.

Meredith felt the hot swirl of his breath against her ear as he spoke, sensed the spark of desire that jumped between them, and it sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Oh he was dangerous all right, there was no doubt about that, but she was prepared to play the game just as much as he could. Despite his words of warning, there was no way she was staying away from him.

"As you said, it's a free country, Mr. Shepherd...and you don't scare me..." she said, just as quietly. "Whether you like it or not, your brother's death is news, and I will get the story...one way or another." Slipping off the barstool, Meredith paused next to him for a moment, invading his space again. "Now, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a story to write. I appreciate the hospitality you've shown me..." She stroked his silk tie with one fingertip. "Good night, Mr. Shepherd."

* * *

**While I do have some chapters banked, I can't promise the updates will come as quickly as this one going forward. Most likely towards the end of the week on most occasions, due to the demands of the real world, and my fussy attention to polishing my chapters before posting. **

**As always, I look forward to your reviews!**


	3. Rumor Has It

**Again, thanks bunches for all the lovely reviews to the last chapter, and for all of you that are following/favoriting the story. To sommers-girl, Juni, Rachel, 4everilmh and other Guests that I haven't been able to thank personally, thank you for finding the story and commenting. (Rachel - thanks as well for your reviews to my satirical little story 'Make the Madness Stop', I hope you find the time to check out some of my other completed fics!)  
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**As for this chapter, Meredith deals in rumors and Derek will have to deal with death. Inbetween, their paths cross again, and sparks will continue to fly. Hope you like it!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Three - Rumor Has It  
**

_Seattle Enquirer Front Page_

**_Local Man Found Dead  
Byline: Meredith Grey_**

_Local area resident Gareth Shepherd was found dead on the shore of Elliot Bay in the early hours of the morning two days ago. According to sources, he had been strangled and left in the frigid waters of the bay. Shepherd has been identified by his brother, Derek Shepherd, owner of Seattle's trendy new restaurant _Ravish_. While the police have admitted there are no suspects at this time, it is alleged that Gareth had ties to some of the criminal elements of Seattle, and his death could be gang related._

_We have contacted Derek Shepherd for a comment, but he has declined to speak with us. His restaurant has quickly become the new place to be seen in Seattle, and his meteoric rise on the culinary scene is quite remarkable. The food is reputed to be sublime, the atmosphere electric, and the waiting list for a reservation extremely long. One wonders just how Derek has come on the scene so quickly, and where he received his funding. Rumor has it... _

"Oh, I can't believe she wrote that," Derek grimaced, not bothering to read any further. He snapped the paper shut and shoved it aside, before picking up his coffee cup again. He'd sent Lucinda out to pick up the morning papers, including the Seattle Enquirer, at which she'd lifted her eyebrows but made no comment. Now he wished he hadn't bothered with it.

"What a fabrication of lies and innuendo! Where does she get the nerve to do that? And how did she know Gareth was strangled?" He knew damn well she had nothing to go on, and yet she managed to spin the situation into something more than it was. Still, he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind since the night before; the image of her ass as she'd sauntered away from him was seared in his brain. While it was obvious she was doing her best to seduce him just to get the story, he was just as intent on not letting her get to him. It might be interesting to play along, just to see how far she would go; but was it worth the aggravation?

His cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he frowned to see it was Det. Hunt again. "Yes?" he answered. "Have you found anything out about Gareth's murder yet?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I wanted to tell you that the coroner has completed all of her work, and you are able to have the funeral home take the body."

A cold chill settled in Derek's body, removing any thoughts of Meredith's seduction, at the stark realization of planning Gareth's funeral. "I see. Thank you. I'll make the arrangements then. Have you seen that article in the paper? About Gareth being involved with gangs?"

"I heard about it. I'm not sure if there's any truth to that. Your brother had some arrest records, as you know, but nothing major. If he was involved, it was never in the open. It's an angle we can pursue, of course. You never saw him with anyone that seemed gang related?"

"Never. And as far as where I got my start up cash is completely irrelevant. Gareth had nothing to do with my restaurant. In fact, I was constantly bailing him out of one mess or another with MY money."

"Ah, so you admit you had reason to be angry with him, then?"

Derek opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped and reconsidered his answer. He had several reasons to be angry with Gareth, but he didn't need to let Hunt know that. "I think if you want to ask me those kinds of questions, I want my lawyer present. But I would hope that you have better suspects in mind to chase down, Hunt. Despite his flaws, Gareth was still my brother, and I would never have done anything to him."

"It's been known to happen, Mr. Shepherd. I'm sure you're aware that family members are often the suspects in a murder case. I can tell you one thing, the crime scene wasn't the beach. Someone took him there and left him in the water. We're still looking for Gareth's car, it's missing and I assume the killer has disposed of it somewhere. If we can find that, I'm sure there will be trace evidence that can help us find the suspect. It's only a matter of time, Mr. Shepherd, but if we have more questions, you're certainly welcome to have your lawyer present."

"Fine."

When Derek ended the call, he raked his hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up and decided to go for a run to clear his head before dealing with the details of Gareth's funeral. Between that, and Ms Grey's piece in the paper, his well-ordered life had been thrown into chaos. He couldn't even grieve yet; there were too many other things to focus on.

* * *

Meredith hunched lower behind the steering wheel of her rented car, keeping an eye on the outside of Derek's house. Obviously he was doing extremely well in life, based on what she could see of the grounds and the exterior. Either that or he was in debt up to his eyeballs, but she wasn't sure about that. According to the information Mark had gathered, Derek had inherited a small amount of money when his mother passed away, though not enough to have funded the restaurant and this gorgeous home. And yet, if he had been involved in anything shady, it wasn't obvious. There wasn't any way she could get access to his financial records, so she would have make do with speculation about some things, as she had done in the first piece she'd written. Luckily George had come through with a few more details from the autopsy, texting her just before the paper had been ready to print. Maybe Mark could pull some strings and get some financial information, or find a hacker to break into bank records. He had his own sources that he preferred to keep to himself.

Then the front gates of Derek's property opened, and he appeared, wearing a grey t-shirt and black running shorts, and she whistled softly. "What great legs you have, Mr. Shepherd…" He stretched for a moment, before sprinting away down the street, towards the running trails that followed the edge of Elliot Bay. "Oh god, he's into running…I hate running..." she muttered. "Why wasn't that in the dossier?"

She watched him for a moment, and then eased the car onto the road, trying to keep a discreet distance, but there wasn't much traffic and she was afraid she was being too obvious. The rented Honda was generic enough, but still she didn't want to bring attention to herself. "Crap, he's just running, I don't need to follow him," she said finally when he disappeared from view. "Wait, what if he's going to hide evidence or something? Don't they say the killer always returns to the scene of the crime...?"

With that thought in mind, she parked the car quickly and jumped out. She wasn't dressed for jogging, in dark slacks and sweater, but maybe she could keep an eye on him from a distance. "Damnit Mark…I'm gonna smack you for missing this," she sighed, pulling out her cell phone.

"He's running!" she said as soon as Mark answered.

"Running? As skipping out of the country?"

"As in jogging along the shore of the bay, why didn't you have that in the notes?"

"Relax Grey, I'm sure he won't go far. Sorry for not knowing that, but sources aren't always reliable, you know that," Mark chuckled. "Unless of course you want to run after him in your heels, which is something I'd pay to see!"

"Ass. I'll have you know I don't always wear heels when I'm out working," she informed him. "I'm wearing flat boots today, but still not good for jogging."

"Well, stick around awhile and see if he comes back. If not, just try a different tack. Bribe his housekeeper, or talk to some of the employees at the restaurant."

"You're right, I just got flustered," Meredith sighed.

"I'll bet you did. He probably looks pretty hot working up a sweat, am I right?"

Meredith flushed. "Um, gotta go, Mark. Talk to you later." She ended the call before he could make another smart remark. From her vantage point, she could see Derek moving quickly along the trail, completely focused on his run. It didn't appear that he was doing anything suspicious, and she relaxed a little. All she had to do was wait for him to return on the loop and then she could talk to him. She just had to think of something to say.

* * *

Derek ran quickly, trying to keep his mind clear, even though too many thoughts threatened to take over. It felt good to sweat and push his body to the point of aching in order to forget. Forget that Gareth was gone, forget that Hunt might suspect him of doing something criminal, forget that Meredith Grey had been trying to seduce him to get a story. He could get through this, and everything would go back to the way it was before. It had to, he hated that everything was careening out of control.

As he went past the rocks along the shore, he wondered briefly where Gareth had been found. He ran along here quite frequently, and he was surprised he hadn't seen anything that morning. It bothered him that Gareth had been followed; he had his faults, but he should have known to cover his tracks better. And it bothered him that Gareth had died out here alone after attempting to call for help. That was going to haunt him for a long time.

Once he made it around the trail, he wiped the sweat out of his eyes, and slowed to a walk. Then he noticed the car waiting at the edge of the trail, and he narrowed his eyes, seeing Meredith standing there. "You again. This is becoming a unfortunate occurrence," he muttered, unable to avoid her. "I thought I told you to stay away from me."

Meredith held out a bottle of water. "Thought you might be thirsty," she said, shrugging.

"Are you following me now?"

"It's my job, Mr. Shepherd. Do you want the water or not?"

He took the bottle from her hand and twisted the cap off. "Thank you, Ms Grey. You'll forgive me if I don't feel like staying to make small talk." He took a few swallows of the water, and then splashed some of it over his face and down his chest. Meredith watched in fascination as the water penetrated his t-shirt, adding to the sweat that already drenched the material. It clung to him, outlining every ripple of his muscle, every definition of his abs. There was no doubt about it, he was lean and fit, something only hinted at from the cut of his expensive suits.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak with me?" she asked finally, making eye contact again.

"You seem to be very adept at making up things to sell your paper, what do you need me for?" he countered. "You have no idea what happened with Gareth, or what I did to get my restaurant started. I was serious when I said I would sue your paper for slander, didn't I make that clear enough last night?" He found himself standing closer to her despite himself, until they were only inches apart. "Someone killed my brother, and it wasn't me. I have nothing to gain from his death. I keep telling people that!"

Meredith gulped, inhaling the very masculine scent of his sweat, which triggered a primal response in her. She touched his chest, trailing her fingers over the wet shirt. "Like I said before, you don't frighten me. I'm just doing my job, Mr. Shepherd."

"Really? Is that all this is about then? Doing your job?" He looked down at her hand that lingered on his chest.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Shepherd, it's nothing more than that," Meredith managed to say, pulling her hand back. "My boss wants me to submit something, so I need to fill that space in the paper. You're big news these days, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Why?" Derek frowned, taking another swallow of the water left in the bottle.

"Why? Good god, papers sell on this kind of scandal. Surely you know that!"

"I've never paid much attention to scandal," Derek admitted. "Too busy."

"Well, trust me, this kind of thing has juicy scandal written all over it. You're a successful business man, your brother had a criminal record and he died under mysterious circumstances! Television movies have been based on less than that."

Derek tossed the empty bottle back to her. "Well, trust me, Ms Grey. There's nothing sinister about it. Gareth probably pissed someone off and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hate that he's dead, but I can't bring him back. I'm a realist. And if you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to plan."

Meredith put her hand on his arm to delay him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know how it is to lose someone close to you."

Derek nodded shortly. "It's not what I want to be dealing with, believe me. And it's less than amusing to see my life played out in the papers."

"It sells papers, Mr. Shepherd," Meredith reminded him. "It makes the internet gossip sites go crazy. Maybe if you give me some kind of exclusive, tell me about Gareth and what he was like, it'll defuse some of the more salacious talk. Think about it."

"Don't get your hopes up," Derek said dryly, but he really didn't think it mattered one way or another what he said about the situation. "Now I do have to go. Good bye, Ms Grey." Derek jogged away, leaving her staring at the sight of his very fine backside disappearing down the street. She felt like stamping her foot in frustration; this was getting her nowhere at all.

* * *

Derek showered quickly, washing away the sweat of his run, and he shook off the memory of Ms Grey's luminous eyes as she had spoke to him. He didn't have time to deal with her, and whatever lies she was going to write about him. She was just a reporter, nothing to concern himself with, he thought as he toweled himself dry. Just because she had the kind of body that made him want to explore her curves, or that she looked at him with eyes that seemed to see right through him shouldn't matter; he'd been with every kind of woman, without looking back. What was it about her that seemed to stick in his brain?

He crossed the floor of his bedroom to pull a suit out of the closet, along with one of his perfectly pressed shirts. Then he went to the dresser, and looked for his cufflinks. The usual black onyx ones that were his favorite seemed to be missing, and he frowned. Obviously he had misplaced them, and he pulled out another pair from the rosewood case where he kept the few pieces of jewelry he owned. He owned several watches, and various cufflinks which he preferred. They appealed to his sense of sophistication, another reminder to himself of how far he'd come in life.

The only other articles in the box were his mother's ring, and an old pocket watch that belonged to his father. It made him stop for a moment, seeing the two items, and he couldn't help but think he had no longer had any family. He picked up the ring and turned it over in his fingers, recalling his mother's warm smile. She would be proud of his success with the restaurant, but she wouldn't have been happy of what he'd done to get to this point. It didn't matter now, what was done was done. He set the ring aside, and attached the cufflinks, before he stared at his reflection in the mirror as he knotted his tie. He resolutely kept his thoughts on the matter at hand. It was time to deal with the business of death.


	4. In Too Deep

**Thank you again for all the great reviews, it always makes me happy to read your thoughts on what's happening. **

**In response to your comment, Rachel, about the length of the chapters - while I want to give you long chapters as often as possible, sometimes it just doesn't work out that way. I try to post a new chapter once a week, usually close to the weekend, but it also depends on the demands of real life! **

**Now on this chapter, hope you enjoy it. Not much interaction between MerDer, but things will be heating up soon, trust me!**

* * *

**Chapter Four  
In Too Deep  
**

After dealing with the details at the funeral home, Derek knew he had to go by his brother's apartment. Not only to find something for Gareth's burial, but he needed to look around to see if he could find some clue as to what Gareth had been involved in. He might've brushed it off with Meredith, but obviously Gareth hadn't been imagining things. Someone had followed him, and obviously killed him to get his hands on the painting.

He opened the door, breathing deeply. It was apparent that Hunt and his crew had been through here already, leaving the place in more of a shambles than usual. Stepping inside, Derek wasn't sure what had been Gareth's doing, and what was the result of the police search. Gareth wasn't the neatest to begin with, with clothes scattered over the floor, dishes in the sink, empty beer bottles on the coffee table, and papers and magazines on every surface. He headed for the bedroom, intent on keeping focused. He hadn't been here in months, not since the last time that he'd bailed Gareth out of jam. The bed was unmade, of course, and more clothes were piled everywhere. Even though Derek knew that a maid service came in here once a week, it didn't seem to have had any effect.

"What the hell did you get yourself into, Gareth?" he muttered to himself, poking around in the closet. There was the usual assortment of jeans, shirts, and shoes. Several shoeboxes were stacked on a shelf, and he looked through them quickly. Just odds and ends, photos from their childhood, mementos of school events. There wasn't anything to indicate what kind of deal he'd gotten into and why it would have caused his death. Derek sat on the bed, and tried to recall the conversation they'd had outside of Ravish the day before Gareth was killed.

_"Derek, just listen to me! I know you've moved on from our old life, but you'll never believe what I found out!"_

_"You're right, I'm not interested, Gareth. And you need to find a legal way to make a living; you don't want to end up in jail!" Derek had just come back from a run on his new Harley, and he didn't feel like listening to Gareth's latest scam. It had been a damp Seattle afternoon, and he felt chilled despite the black leather jacket and gloves he'd worn. He was craving a glass of his best Macallan Scotch, inside where it was warm._

_"This is the big one, Derek! Once I have this, I can pay off all my debts and live off the rest of the cash, preferably somewhere that it doesn't rain all the time."_

_"Where did you hear about this?"_

_"Around, you know how it is, Derek."_

_"If it's such a great score, then it's not going to be easy to fence. Someone will pick up on the fact it's stolen." _

_"Not the guy I'm dealin' with. He knows exactly what it is, and he wants to pay me a lot of money to get it for him." Gareth glanced over his shoulder before speaking again. "It's a Monet."_

_"What? Are you out of your damn mind?" Derek whispered back, just as fiercely as he could. "Do NOT get involved in this. That's a major felony, Gareth."_

_"One last time, Derek, like I said," Gareth reminded him. "Are you sure you don't want part of the action? Just like old times?"_

_Derek raked his damp hair away from his eyes, and glared at his brother again. "Just leave me out of this! I have a reputation to uphold here, and I'm not about to jeopardize that. Are we clear?"_

_"Crystal."_

Derek shook his head again. That was the last time he'd seen Gareth, walking away from him, whistling happily. Clearly, something had gone wrong, and Gareth had paid the price for it.

* * *

Meredith returned to the office, and sat in front of her computer, staring at the blank screen for a moment. She knew she had a deadline to submit something for publication, but she really wasn't sure what to write. So far she had nothing to go on, besides speculation and gossip, which was really their usual stock in trade. The housekeeper at Derek's house had been unwilling to speak with her, and she'd had no better luck at Ravish. All of his employees seemed to be intensely loyal to him. Some of the other local reporters were also on the trail, and Meredith had no choice but to give up for the day.

She was about to get up and get a cup of coffee when Mark stopped by her desk, holding an envelope in his hands, along with what looked like her expense report. "Can you please explain this expense you have listed here?" he asked, waving the report in front of her. "I don't recall authorizing you to have dinner at_ Ravish_, Grey."

"It wasn't dinner," she countered. "That would have been way more expensive. I only had the crab and brie appetizers, and a drink..."

Mark raised one eyebrow at her. "Seriously? For that price you should have had the whole damn crab, claws and all. What did you have to drink?"

Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Um, just a glass of champagne. Cristal... it seemed appropriate."

"Good god, I hope it was worth it," he grumbled, before thrusting the brown envelope at her. "Here, some pictures for your story."

"What's this?"

Mark crossed his arms over his chest, as he perched on the corner of her desk. "Some anonymous source dropped them off at reception for you. Take a look."

Meredith undid the envelope flap and pulled out a few photos. "What am I looking at?"

"That is Derek Shepherd and his brother, obviously having an argument. The date on the photos is the day before his brother died."

"What? This is incredible," Meredith murmured, sifting through the pictures. All of them showed Derek and his brother, outside of a restaurant, their faces telling a tale of anger. "This is outside of _Ravish_, why didn't anyone else have these?"

Mark shrugged. "Who knows? All I can say is that it's going on the front page of _our_ paper tomorrow. You can write a piece to go along with it. You have time yet tonight."

"But…how do we know this is real? It could be some sort of photoshop thing."

"Since when has that been your priority? Just run with it, Grey. You seemed to be lost for words anyway," he said, noting her blank document open on the screen. "Get to it."

"Fine. Just be prepared to deal with Shepherd's lawyer," she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"We have a good legal department here too. Just write the piece."

"Whatever you say, boss," Meredith agreed, her fingers poised over the keyboard. "But what if he's just having an argument over what to have for lunch?"

"Does that look like an argument over pasta to you?"

"Well…"

"Are you getting soft on me, Grey?"

"No, but…"

"Derek Shepherd could be guilty, don't let his good looks cloud your judgment."

"You said to get close to him," Meredith protested. "Not that I have yet."

"Only to get the story, not to get all sentimental on me," Mark reminded her.

"No, of course not. He just seems like a nice enough guy, and I don't want to accuse him of something he didn't do."

Mark gave her a sharp look. "Just be sure that's all it is."

"Don't worry about me, Mark. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." Meredith looked through the pictures again, trying to figure out what Derek could've been angry with his brother about. It could be anything, from a minor disagreement to an argument about money. Gareth had obviously been a troubled man, based on the public record of his arrests; it would stand to reason that he had money problems.

Putting his hands on her shoulders, Mark leaned in closer to look through the photos as well. "Whatever they're fighting about, it looks serious. Derek has a look on his face that can only be classed as murderous."

Meredith had to agree. Based on the photo, it had been a typical rainy Seattle afternoon, and Derek was wearing a dark leather jacket, and his hair looked damp and out of control. She could tell from the set of his jaw and the look on his face that he was angry. Even though the picture was black and white, she could just imagine the ice blue of his stare, having been at the receiving end of such a look. But she had to admit, he looked hot as hell when he was mad.

"Quit drooling on the picture," Mark teased her.

"I was not!"

"Get to work. We can hold the print for you, but don't be too long past deadline if you can. I'll just take a few of these and figure out what we're putting on the front page," he said, plucking a few of the photos out of her fingers. "I'll even bring you a cup of coffee, Grey. I know you can use the caffeine."

"You gonna approve that expense report too?"

"Yeah, yeah...might as well. Just give me a little warning next time?"

"You're all heart, Mark," she smirked.

Mark chuckled as he walked away, leaving her to her blank document screen. Once again, she studied the photos spread on the desk. Gareth was a younger version of Derek, with the same thick hair, even though his was somewhat longer and more unruly. Like Derek, he was wearing a leather jacket, a little more worse for wear, and what looked like faded jeans. He certainly didn't appear as polished as his older brother, but he had his own appeal. She compared that to the picture George had emailed her of Gareth on the autopsy table, and she shivered at the sad comparison. Had Derek really been that angry that he strangled his own brother?

* * *

Derek walked away from Gareth's apartment, carrying a duffel bag with some clothes to take to the funeral home, along with some family mementos he'd found in the bedroom. Everything else had been worthless to him, and he'd have it packed up to give to charity. And of course, there hadn't been a single clue about the mysterious painting, or who hired Gareth to steal it. If anything, Gareth had been compulsive about hiding his tracks, which made it even more puzzling that someone could have followed him. Someone else was obviously just as compulsive about getting close to Gareth, maybe someone Gareth trusted. For all Derek knew, the killer already had the painting and could be far away by now.

By the time he'd reached his home, he was feeling at loose ends. It was too early to head to the restaurant, despite a few text messages he'd received from the chef about some squabbles in the kitchen. Nor did he feel any desire to see Anya, even though she was likely waiting for him to call. Maybe it was time to end that particular relationship anyway.

As he walked into the house, he set aside the duffel bag and grabbed the mail Lucinda had left for him. There was the usual assortment of flyers, promotional offers, bills, invitations to various charity events and one plain envelope with no return address. For a moment, he turned it over, wondering if he should toss it away unopened. His curiosity got the best of him, however, and he ripped it open. Inside he found a small key, and a scrap of lined paper with an address scribbled on it. He recognized Gareth's scrawl, and he frowned. "Damnit, Gareth, could you be any more cryptic?"

He headed for his home office and opened up his laptop to search for the address on the note. It came up as a small branch Bank of America in a part of Seattle he wasn't familiar with. He assumed the key opened a safety deposit box there, and he decided he had enough time to find the place before heading to the restaurant.

* * *

Meredith pulled up a few of the archived articles about Derek that had been printed over the past year. Most of them related to the opening of his restaurant, where he posed for pictures with various local politicians and celebrities. Then there were the pieces from the gossip pages, of Derek with different women at night clubs, charity dinners, or the theatre. None of the women were the same, though they seemed to share the same aloof expression and designer wardrobe.

"My my, don't you look good in that Armani tux," she observed, reading the article listing the clothing designer. "You certainly have expensive tastes, Mr Shepherd."

There were also articles about parties held at that gorgeous home of his, with rumors of excesses of alcohol and women. She wrinkled her nose at that, wondering how much was true. Another article hinted at drug scandals, and yet another one praised him for donating an impressive work of art to the local museum. He seemed to invite all kinds of attention from one end of the spectrum to the other. He was wealthy, handsome and charming, all the attributes society adored. If there was a dark side to him, it was well hidden.

"He should be accustomed to the media spotlight, damnit. I don't get that he didn't understand why we're interested in him. News is news," she said firmly, opening her document screen again. This time her fingers moved over the keyboard, as she wrote the article to go with the pictures.

Mark came up beside her again, and set the coffee cup down on the desk, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. "Good work, Grey. Glad to see you've found your usual eloquence."

"He's just a story, like everyone else," she muttered.

"Good, just business as usual, Grey," he grinned, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Keep that in mind."

* * *

After taking the detour to the bank, Derek hurried into the restaurant with the package under his arm. Once he was locked in his office, he spread it open carefully on his desk. Just as Gareth had said, the rolled up canvas was a small Monet; Derek could tell immediately that it was real. He took a moment to appreciate the subtle colors, the delicate beauty of the painting. He could understand exactly why someone would want to own this, and why someone would kill for it. Obviously the theft hadn't been reported yet, or it would've been all over the news. Unless, of course, the owner was someone that shouldn't own it in the first place.

Derek closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair, letting his agile mind think of all the angles in this situation. He rubbed his temples tiredly; despite telling Gareth he didn't want to get involved, he had just been pushed into the deep end. It would take all of his skill to come out of this unscathed.

* * *

Meredith finished typing the article and sent it off to the copy editor for final review. It was just under the wire for the deadline, and she stretched a little tiredly after shutting down her computer, happy to be finished. She needed a hot bath and a shot of tequila, not necessarily in that order. As she stood up, she saw the light was still on in Mark's office, and she headed over to say good night.

"All done, boss," she said, pausing in the doorway. "I'm outta here."

"Good job, Grey. How about a drink?"

"Um...well maybe just one."

"I knew I could twist your arm," Mark grinned, shutting off the desk lamp and grabbing his jacket. "C'mon, we'll go to Joe's, and I'm buying. Maybe your friend Cristina will be there."

"Is this just a ploy to get to talk to her?"

"Suspicious much?" Mark put his arm around her shoulders as they waited for the elevator.

Meredith laughed softly. "She's a hotshot surgeon, Mark, I think that turns you on."

"Are you calling me a womanizer?"

"Oh, no, of course not!"

Once inside the elevator, she leaned against the wall, glancing at him. She knew how much Mark loved to flirt with every woman he saw, it was just part of his nature. It was part of the reason why they broke up, even though it hadn't been serious for either of them. She liked her independence, and he liked his variety. They had some fun together; if anything, Mark liked to have a good time, and was very easy going. Derek, on the other hand, looked like he would be intense and passionate about any kind of relationship; just the way those eyes of his burned into hers. She had a sudden vision of him in bed, with that black hair in disarray and his mouth doing deliciously sinful things...

"Why are you staring at me? Have I got a coffee stain on my shirt or something?" Mark glanced down at his shirt, before looking at her again.

Meredith was startled out of her dirty thoughts at Mark's question. "Sorry, just thinking about stuff."

"Thinking about Shepherd again?"

"Ahh...what makes you say that?" she countered.

"You had that look on your face."

"What look?"

"That sexy, '_oh baby_' look," he teased her. "I used to see that face, but now I'm just the ex-lover. Used and abused and tossed aside..."

"You really are an ass, Mark," she groaned, as the elevator hissed to a stop and they stepped out into the lobby. "If Cristina's there, I'm going to tell her to ignore you!"

"You're kind of cranky, Grey, maybe you DO need to get laid."

Meredith resisted the urge to punch him in the arm, and they walked the short distance to Joe's bar without further conversation. The small place was busy as usual, but they managed to find a couple spots at the bar.

"Evenin' folks. The usual?" Joe greeted them, grinning amiably as he set down the glassware in front of them.

"Please."

"One tequila for the lady, and one scotch for the gentleman." Joe poured with a flourish. "Hey, I read that article about that guy that died, Meredith. You think the brother did it?"

"Who knows, Joe. Anything's possible these days. You ever bump into Shepherd? Being fellow business men and all?" she asked, toying with the shot glass.

"Hmm, not that I know of. There's usually a couple different community functions for business owners, but I don't remember seeing him. He seems to do well, from what I've heard, runs a good kitchen. We're not exactly in the same category though!"

"Okay, well if you hear any gossip…" Meredith sighed, holding up her glass for a refill.

"You got it. Oh hey, Dr. Yang." Joe added another shot glass to the bar, filling it as well.

"Thank you, Joe, you're a life saver."

"Cristina, you made it," Meredith grinned at the other woman, a slim Asian with a mass of long black hair, wearing indigo blue scrubs from the hospital under her coat.

"Barely. It was a crappy day. I didn't even feel like changing, as you can tell from my lovely outfit. I need a drink, or a massage, or a man…or a drunken massage by a man."

Mark held up his glass. "Nice to see you again. I can offer my services to give you a massage, I've been told I have very talented fingers. I believe I meet all of your requirements." His eyes twinkled at her. "I'll even bring tequila."

Cristina winked at him. "As appealing as that sounds, I really think I'll head home alone tonight. I'm exhausted."

"Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?" Meredith asked.

"You bet. You can tell me all about your new assignment, he looks hot. Can't wait to read what you write about him next!" She downed her tequila shot, and grinned at Meredith.

"Oh, just wait till the next edition. I may need to go into hiding."

"Sounds dangerous." Cristina grabbed her purse. "See you tomorrow night, Mer. See ya around Sloan."

Mark watched her leave, swirling the scotch in his glass thoughtfully. "What am I doing wrong? My best lines usually work."

"Aw, don't worry, Mark. There's always next time." Meredith couldn't help but laugh at his expression, but then she sobered. "D'you think Cris is right? Am I asking for trouble by writing that piece?"

Setting down his glass, Mark leaned his elbow on the bar. "I'll protect you, Grey. You can always stay with me, you know."

"Thanks for the offer, Mark. You just got shot down by my best friend, and now you're hitting on me again?"

"Not hitting on you, just being a friend, Meredith. I mean that." This time his voice was serious, just as the use of her first name indicated he wasn't teasing her.

"Okay, thanks. I'm sure I'm just being silly." She finished her drink and stood up. "Thanks for the drinks, I'm heading home too. See you in the morning, I think I'll be safe for the night!"

"Just watch your back, just in case."


	5. Sensing the Darkness

**Thank you all for the support and reviews to the last chapter! **

** I know I'm a little late in posting this one, but what can I say...I'm on vacation and the weather is hot, so sitting inside with my laptop didn't appeal to me as much as sitting outside with a cold drink! As for content, well, there is the matter of Gareth's death to deal with, along with a bit of Derek's backstory, and oh yes...some MerDer contact for those of you weeping for more. :o)**

* * *

**Chapter Five  
Sensing the Darkness  
**

At the end of the evening, after the last of his staff had left, Derek set the alarm codes and closed up the restaurant, before heading for his car. The painting was still safely locked up in his office, until he figured out his plan of action. He supposed the proper thing to do would be to hand it over to Det. Hunt and let him deal with it, after all it wasn't like he stole the damn thing. It was evidence in his brother's death, if nothing else.

He stopped alongside his Porsche, and was about to push the remote to unlock it, when he noticed something tucked under the windshield wiper. "Damn flyers," he muttered, ready to toss it aside without looking at it, when he realized it was an envelope with his name in block letters on it. He frowned as he picked it up carefully, inspecting it for a moment. Getting into the car, he started it to take off the chill in the air, before he undid the flap. A folded paper was inside, along with one of his onyx cufflinks. "What the hell?" he muttered, and his pulse sped up as he scanned the note quickly.

_Derek, I trust you have taken the time to read this and not throw it away.  
_

_Your brother is dead because of something he took, something that I hired him to steal, and want to get my hands on rather badly. He seemed to have a change of heart, and stashed it somewhere before I was able to take it from him. In fact, he was rather difficult when I tried to get the information from him about what he'd done with it. After I'd agreed to pay him quite well for it. However, it does give me some leverage with you. I'm sure you know what he's done with it, and unless you turn it over to me, I'll make sure you're blamed for his death. I think the fact I have your other cufflink in my possession should be enough to convince you. I have my ways of getting what I want.  
_

_On the other hand, if you give me the painting, I'll be sure to give some eyewitness testimony to the cops and tell them I saw who killed Gareth. Someone that's not you. Then we'll go our separate ways and this will be all over. _

_Don't talk to anyone about this, and I'll be in touch with you again soon. Trust me, Derek, I know you and I know all about your past, so don't take too long to find that painting. I'm sure Detective Hunt would be thrilled to know what you did before, and it would only add to the scandal if everything came to light. I'm sure you don't want your new life to come crashing down around you!_

_Oh, and check the papers tomorrow…that pretty little reporter should have a new story and pictures. Just as a teaser to fan the flames of gossip LOL…._

Derek turned the note over, it was plain paper, the words typed using some generic word processing program. "Damnit!" he swore, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. "Who the hell is doing this?" He was going to have to get in touch with some of the people from his past, people who might know who Gareth had been dealing with. Maybe he could figure out who was blackmailing him and turn him over to Hunt before the killer got away his plan. Fortunately, he already had the painting, which should buy him some time. He turned the cufflink over in his fingers, thinking about the life he had left behind and was going to have to deal with again.

Carolyn Shepherd had been left alone with two young boys after her husband had been killed in a car accident. While there had been some life insurance, it didn't go far to pay some of the debts she had been left with, and money was always stretched thin. She was a talented artist, and sold some of her paintings for a modest price, while working at a local art gallery to make ends meet. She did her best to provide her sons with a good home, but they didn't always have the extra things that lots of kids took for granted.

Derek and Gareth grew up in the company of creative people that Carolyn liked to be involved with. They spent some of their spare time working in the back of the gallery, helping out with some of the packaging and shipping of goods, and they learned the value of paintings early on. It soon became apparent that Derek would need to do something to help his mother pay some of the bills, and he found he had a talent for theft. He was quick witted and light on his feet, and could steal a painting out its frame in no time at all.

The owner of the gallery caught him one day in the act of rolling up a painting from the back of the shop, and rather than turn Derek in to the police, he became a mentor. He taught both brothers, but Derek proved to be more adept. Still, by the time they were in their early twenties, they could easily tell the difference between authentic and forgeries, and they developed their skills at breaking and entering to leave no trace behind. Their mentor, Richard Webber, paid them well for the stolen goods, and he had a lucrative side business that wasn't reflected in his regular bookkeeping.

From the start, Derek had been ambitious, saving most of the money he'd earned, while helping his mother with cash that she questioned, but accepted his assurance he was working another job. Either she was being naïve, or she turned a blind eye, he never knew. Gareth, on the other hand, had a weakness for gambling and no ambition to do anything legitimate. Carolyn indulged him, as the younger son, and he sailed through life without any consequences, spending his cash as fast as he got paid.

Over the years, Derek had formed alliances with other art dealers who were willing to buy paintings without asking questions. He grew up street smart, tough and self-reliant. He learned how to fight to defend himself with his fists when he had to, or charm his way out of a situation if that worked better. Gareth had been less driven, but just as savvy. But Derek always maintained his ambition of making more of himself, and he had been able to leave that life behind and move up in the world. It hadn't been easy, and he always lived with the reality that his past would someday come back and haunt him.

Derek shook his head. Unfortunately, it appeared that someday had come. He knew he'd made a few enemies in the business, and there were women he'd charmed and left behind. Now he would have to do whatever it took to make sure no one discovered the darkness that was his past life.

* * *

In the early light of the morning, the papers were dropped off at the newsstand, and the Seattle Enquirer was the only one with the picture of Derek and his brother on the front page. Several copies were snatched up quickly, and a sly grin crossed the lips of one of the people reading. "Oh, this is priceless…"

**_Shepherd vs Shepherd  
Byline: Meredith Grey_**

_All of us have experience with family problems; we have had our share of feuds and arguments, similar to what is evidenced by this photo. Families fight, and that's normal, but in the case of the Shepherd brothers, one of them is now deceased. These two men argued, about something, it's clear to see. Did that argument lead to his death? Or is there something more sinister going on?_

_While Derek Shepherd is often written up in the society pages, or gossip pages, or the fine dining pages, little is known of his past or his relationship with his brother. We do know the two brothers were left some inheritance after their mother passed away a few years ago, and that Ravish was opened not long after that. Derek also owns a fabulous home near Eliot Bay, along with several luxury vehicles. He's donated artwork worth a small fortune to the museum, and he throws fabulous parties that include the cream of Seattle society. All of this is funded somehow._

_Gareth, on the other hand, was a troubled man from what we know of his criminal records. His apartment was also paid for by his brother, and he had no luxury vehicles at his disposal. Is it possible he was trying to extort more cash from Derek? Or was there just bad blood between the two of them?_

_Digging into their past, we find that their mother was an artist of some repute – Carolyn Shepherd was well known for her watercolor depictions of Seattle. She may have passed along this love of artwork to her sons, but neither of them has become artists. Still, it may explain the donation Derek made to the museum. If Carolyn were alive today, what would she have to say about this situation? To pit brother against brother is a story as old as time – I'm sure we all remember the tale of Cain and Abel?_

_Seattle police are not at liberty to discuss the ongoing investigation, of course. Detective Hunt assures me, however, that all is being done to bring the murderer to justice. In the meantime, the funeral for Gareth Shepherd is to be held this coming Friday, at the Mount Pleasant Cemetery._

"Can she get away with this?" Derek demanded, speaking to his lawyer on the phone. He had the paper open on his desk, the offending article in front of him. "She's all but accused me of killing Gareth!"

"We can take out a restraining order to them, but seriously, just ignore it," Addison encouraged him. "The less said the better. You'll just add fuel to the flames if you start to speak up."

Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking that if he were the type of person prone to migraines this would certainly bring one on. As it was, he was only angry again. "Do it anyway, Addison. It'll give me the satisfaction of knowing she can't slander me again."

"Fine, you're the client."

"And I pay you very well," he reminded her. "So, I need to ask you a hypothetical question...if a person has a stolen item in their possession that someone else wants and is threatening to blackmail said person over it...is it a good idea to go along with that? Or just turn the stolen item over to the police?"

"Holy shit, Derek, what are you talking about?"

"It's just hypothetical."

"I don't need to think about it. Turn it over to the police and let them handle it."

"But what if the stolen item could be returned to the rightful owner first?"

"Derek, this doesn't make sense. Are you involved in something criminal?" Addison asked quietly. "I've known you a long time, and I realize you may not have always been the charismatic businessman you are today, but..."

"You're right, Addi, you've known me a long time, but don't start asking me questions you don't want the answers to, all right?" Derek pushed the newspaper away. Addison Forbes Montgomery was completely professional, competent and relentless when she wanted information. He had hired her before starting the restaurant, while he was still dealing with his mother's death, and still involved in stealing paintings. He had always been clever enough to avoid being caught and wanted to keep that part of his life away from his current one. "Look, I've got to go. Just take care of Ms Grey. I don't want to deal with her anymore."

"Sure, I'll get on it right away. And Derek, maybe you just need to get away for awhile, once the funeral is over."

"I can't, not until they find who killed Gareth. And I'm sure that Hunt wouldn't want me to fly away somewhere anyway. He might just believe what he reads in the papers."

Derek set the phone aside. Addison was a perceptive lawyer, he wouldn't be surprised if she had her suspicions about his past. But he wasn't ready to share that with her if he didn't have to.

* * *

The rain was coming down steadily later in the afternoon, when Derek swung into the parking lot of the florist shop. He needed to confirm the details of the floral arrangements to be sent to the funeral home; he didn't feel right leaving that to someone else. He dashed through the rain, nearly colliding with someone leaving the store. Putting his hand out to steady himself, he started to apologize, when he looked down and found himself staring into Meredith's eyes. "You again?" he muttered, his hand still at her upper arm. "What are you doing here? You can't possibly have known I was coming here!"

She held up a bouquet wrapped in paper. "What does anyone do at a florist shop, Mr. Shepherd? Are you getting paranoid?"

Derek frowned, realizing that he was still holding onto her upper arm. He could smell the fragrance in her hair, mingled with the female essence he couldn't miss. He let her go slowly, and scrubbed his hand over his face to keep his emotions in check. "Maybe I am," he replied. "It's just that I don't seem to bump into you unless it's by design, Ms Grey. Forgive me if that makes me paranoid."

Then he pulled her aside, under the shop's striped awning, out of the rain. "So you believe me when I tell you I had no idea you'd be here?" she asked, eying him carefully. He was wearing one of his usual perfectly tailored suits, and a black overcoat that reached his knees. Water glistened on the coat, and dampened his hair.

"You're capable of anything, including making up crap that's only meant to sell papers. You should write novels," he said evenly. "I warned you before, but trust me, you'll be hearing from my lawyer now. You've pushed me far enough."

"Then why are you talking to me now, if you think I'm so terrible?" she asked sweetly. "Or do you want to search me for recording devices?"

Derek hesitated for a second, having a sudden image of running his hands along her body, wondering how she would feel under his touch. Then suddenly a kid on a skateboard barreled down the sidewalk under the awning, and Derek instinctively moved towards Meredith. He closed the space between them, sliding his arm around her waist. He only meant, or so he thought, to keep her from stumbling. But she seemed to melt into him, and the scent of her was like flowers. His hand slid up her back, and along her neck, and she didn't resist. Instead, she lifted her face and her eyes invited him to do more, and in a heartbeat, he lowered his head and kissed her. He fully expected her to back away, but she met his mouth without hesitation. It made no sense, and yet, he couldn't back away either, and he claimed her lips, slow and deliberate. The kiss was deep and full of erotic promise that sent heat through both of them.

Meredith lifted up on her toes to kiss him back, melting into the warmth of his body. There was no denying the desire that had been hovering between them from the moment they'd met, and he kissed just the way she'd imagined he would. She made an involuntary little sound of pleasure, and it seemed to break the moment. Derek lifted his head, and stepped back, letting her go slowly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said. "This was a mistake."

"Oh, really...it seemed like a good idea to me," Meredith murmured, her voice a little teasing, a little aroused yet.

"Then that's where we differ, Ms Grey."

"Mr Shepherd, we might differ on a lot of things, but trust me, I'm quite sure you were enjoying that just as much as I did." Meredith's green eyes were knowing, as she tapped his chest with the flowers she was holding. "I'm sure we'll bump into each other again soon. Take care." The she winked at him, and turned to walk away. Leaving him standing under the awning with a bemused expression on his face.


	6. Dangerous Games

**I thank you all for your comments and insightful observations to the last chapter.  
**

**This chapter brings Meredith and Derek together again, whether or not it's going to help her or make things more difficult will remain to be seen. :o)  
**

* * *

**Chapter Six  
Dangerous Games  
**

Derek slipped into his office at the restaurant and locked the door behind him. He opened the safe and rolled out the painting on his desk. It was a beautiful little canvas, one of Monet's distinctive watercolors, and he took a moment to appreciate the masterpiece. It was worth a small fortune, and he wondered who Gareth had been dealing with that had been willing to pay for it. There were several people he could call, but he really just wanted to return the damn thing, no questions asked.

So deep in thought, when his cell phone rang, he nearly bolted out of his chair. It was Detective Hunt, and Derek frowned. "Yes?" he answered sharply.

"Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Shepherd. Am I getting you at a bad time?"

"No, I'm just dealing with a few things."

"I'm sure you are. I wanted to ask you about the photo of you and your brother that was in yesterday's paper. You looked quite intent. Can you tell me what you were arguing about?"

"It was nothing," Derek said tiredly. "He had some scheme to make money, seemed to think I should go along with it."

"And this was the last time you saw him alive?"

"Yes, I guess it was."

"You didn't tell me about that before, Mr. Shepherd."

"I didn't think it was important."

"The reporter in the paper seems to think it was rather ominous. I don't put a lot of stock in that, of course. But you should have told me. It puts you in a bad light."

"I didn't kill my brother."

"Well, at the moment you have no alibi for that time frame. Not that there's any evidence pointing to you, either. Unless you've thought of anyone else that could have done it since we talked last."

For a moment, Derek flashed on the note left on his car, but he wasn't about to mention that yet. "No, but as I told you, he owed money to a lot of different creditors."

"We've been looking into that, of course. Gareth was in debt, as you say, to some people that demand a lot of interest. You didn't want to help him out?"

"He needed to stand on his own feet, Det. Hunt, but in retrospect, I should have done more. Maybe he would be alive right now."

"Well, I plan to be at his funeral to see if anyone suspicious shows up."

"Really? You believe someone will just pop up wearing a sign that admits his guilt?" Derek asked, but he wondered as well if his blackmailer would show up.

Hunt chuckled a little. "Not quite that simple, but part of my job is being able to recognize some of the criminal element. Give me some credit, Mr. Shepherd."

"Of course. Now, I'm busy so if there's nothing else?"

"Not at the moment. Keep in touch, all right?"

"Sure."

Derek set the phone aside and studied the painting again. There were likely only a couple of people in Seattle that would have had a painting this valuable in their homes, and they weren't likely to report it missing. One of them was a reclusive billionaire who had a small home on Bainbridge Island. He had purchased one or two things from Derek in the past, preferring to stay under the radar and just enjoy the paintings without public scrutiny.

The other man was Derek's mentor, Richard Webber. As a master thief himself, it would be just like him to have a Monet such as this one. "I think I need to get in touch with you," Derek said thoughtfully. "And if you aren't missing this, you might know who is." With that in mind, he carefully returned the painting to the safe and closed it carefully.

* * *

"We've been served," Mark said dryly, looking at Meredith across his desk. "I guess we've touched a nerve with that last story."

"What?"

"According to Shepherd's lawyer, we are to cease and desist writing 'inflammatory and derogatory' stories about him." Mark indicated the legal document on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh…well, that sounds serious."

"I suppose it does."

"So we stop?"

"For the moment, I suppose. But our lawyers will counter sue, and we can get back at him as soon as possible. The funeral is coming up, I think you should be there, at least to take some notes and see who shows up."

Meredith nodded. "Sure."

"No second thoughts?"

"None. He's just another story." Meredith stated it with certainty, but in fact, she was wavering on that. Ever since sharing that unexpected kiss, she'd been consumed with even more erotic thoughts about Derek that she wasn't about to share with Mark. In her career as a reporter, she'd never gotten personally involved with anyone she wrote about, it didn't make for an unbiased opinion. Still, she'd never met anyone quite like Derek before. There was something about him that piqued her curiosity, and her emotions. She wanted to find out more about the man, and not just to drag his name through the gossip mud.

"Sure. If you say so," Mark grinned. "I think you still want to jump his bones even if he doesn't give you any information. Just be careful, Grey."

"I'm always careful, Mark. In fact, Cristina and I were just talking about that at dinner the other night. She wants to take some self-defense classes and I'm going with her."

"Does that mean you'll be able to throw me down on the floor and take advantage of me?" he asked, with a little gleam in his eye. "Or maybe you and Cristina could...?"

"It's not always about sex, Mark," she smirked, getting up before he could make any further comments. "More likely it means a knee in the crotch."

"Ouch." Mark winced at the thought.

"Exactly. So don't test me!"

* * *

Later that evening, as fog rolled in from the bay, shrouding the city, Meredith sat in her car outside of Ravish as the last of the patrons left. If she was going to do this, she had to take advantage of the fact that Derek was likely alone, closing the restaurant. She needed to get close to him, gain his confidence, if she was going to get any kind of inside information about Gareth. Finally, the staff departed as well, laughing amongst themselves, and she stepped out of her car, wrapping her coat around herself. She had dressed carefully for this encounter, choosing a delicate dress that accentuated her curves, even if it was a little too thin for the chilly damp in the air.

Finding the back entrance still unlocked, she slipped inside, discarding the coat before making her way through the kitchen. She paused at the threshold of the bar, taking a moment to watch Derek as he went over the evening's receipts. He sat at the polished oak bar, a large goblet of red wine in front of him, with only a few of the lamps casting light on his paperwork. He had discarded his jacket and tie, and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. While he looked less impeccable than his usual public persona, he was no less sensual. Light and shadows played over his features, sculpting his cheekbones where the dark stubble already grew. The fingers of one hand played along the stem of the goblet, before he lifted it to his lips.

She must have made some sound then, because he glanced in her direction, after taking a swallow of the rich cabernet. A brief smile graced his mouth, and then it was gone as he stood up. "Ms Grey, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?" he inquired, moving towards her, his indigo eyes raking her from head to toe. "We're closed for the evening, you know."

"Yes, of course, I just..." she started to say, and then stopped. What could she say that would make him listen to her?

Derek stopped and waited for her to speak again, leaning one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He could see the pulse beating at her throat, and he caught the nervous tension that she radiated. "Well...? You came to ask more questions about my brother? To dig for more dirt on my family? Maybe ask about my mother's bad habits that caused him to become a criminal? Even though I realize you can fabricate something to suit your perception of my family. But wait…you can't write anything now, can you? I trust your boss got the legal notification from Addison?"

Meredith acknowledged his jibe silently for a moment. "Listen, I get it. You have every right to be angry with me, but I had this urge to see you. After that kiss, you have to admit there's something between us," she said softly, making herself step a little closer to him. It wasn't a lie, she did want to see him, despite it being part of her job.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "After all, you think I killed my brother, isn't that right? What could you possibly want to see me about...alone?" His voice was dangerous and somewhat mocking, and she lifted her chin defiantly.

"You're innocent until proven guilty, and I'm only a reporter, not a cop. Maybe I like the bad boy image you like to project to everyone." She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame; even knowing about his reputation, his legendary parties, the powerful motorcycle he drove with reckless abandon, and the women he was romantically linked with. It all fueled the attraction she felt. She lifted her hand, and touched his face, mesmerized by his smoky gaze. Derek caught her hand, and placed a kiss on her wrist, and it sent unbidden heat through her body. It reminded her all too quickly of the effect their last kiss had on her.

"You've taken a chance, coming to see me here like this. I think we both know what you really want with me," he said quietly, suddenly pinning her against the wall, so that his body was intimately close to hers. His fingers played with a tendril of her hair, as he inhaled the scent of her skin. "Are you sure that you want to do this? You can leave right now, and we'll forget this happened. What if someone found out...you would be accused of compromising your ethics, of sleeping with the man you're trying to prove guilty in the media. It's a dangerous game you're playing."

Her body stiffened, and she lifted her face instinctively. Her lips parted, partly in surprise, and partly in invitation, and she held her breath, not moving. His hands moved to cup her face, his thumb tracing the edge of her mouth. Hands that may have done harm to his brother, but at that moment, she realized he would never hurt her. "Don't you like dangerous games?" she laughed softly.

His eyes were unfathomable in the dim light, as he contemplated her words. "Just as long as we're clear about what we're doing then," he said finally. "In this game, I intend to win." Then he slanted his mouth over hers, and she was aware of just how far she had pushed this seduction, that it was headed towards its inevitable conclusion. And she was surrendering to the game, tumbling into the heady rush that consumed her, powerless to stop it.

Her mouth welcomed his, as his tongue invaded, and she met him kiss for kiss. There was an urgent hunger between them, as he buried his fingers in her hair and kept her close. There was no longer any space between them, the heat of his body and the press of his erection gave her no doubt that she was turning him on. As if sensing her thoughts, Derek lifted his head, and gave her a lazy smile. "Oh yes, I want you right now, you aren't getting away from me."

Before she realized his intent, he had her in his arms and carrying her easily towards his office. He kicked the door shut behind him, and strode to the leather couch, where he dropped down onto it. With her straddling his lap, he undid the tie of her lilac silk wrap dress, sliding the material away from her shoulders. The silk slithered from her body, leaving her completely bare to his hungry eyes. He whistled softly. "You really did come ready to seduce me, Ms Grey. I must say I'm a little surprised. Not that I don't admire your foresight."

Meredith burned under his gaze, naked except for the Jimmy Choo sandals on her feet. "I always have a plan, Mr. Shepherd," she replied tartly.

"Under the circumstances, we don't need to be so formal, do we…Meredith?" he laughed softly, before placing his mouth against her breasts. With his hands supporting her back, he licked and sucked and nibbled until she was gasping in pleasure. The way he used his teeth against her nipple, the delicious way his tongue moved to ease the sting, and then the deep sucking all combined to bring her up to her knees, clutching his hair to hold him there.

When he lifted his head to look at her, she kissed him, long and hard, thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a blatant invitation. Derek kissed her back, just as hard, making her tremble from the sensation. His hands moved to her thighs, sliding his fingers between her legs to use his thumb on her clit in a bold, possessive move that made her moan against his mouth. She broke the kiss, falling against his chest, feeling a little wild at how quickly this had escalated.

"Should I trust you?" he asked, his lips at her ear suddenly as he continued to toy with her almost lazily.

"Probably not, but I'm here because I want to see you, nothing else," Meredith replied, arching her hips against him.

"Then we're even, because you shouldn't trust me either. But you aren't getting out of here now, not until we're both completely satisfied," he said quietly. Despite his misgivings, he craved having her, he needed to have her, and he wasn't about to let her go. She was different from the other women he'd been involved with; even if she made him angry, she was like a breath of fresh air that blew away some of his layers of reserve that he usually kept in place with women.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Derek gave her a wicked grin. "This is just physical, you know that...no romance involved."

"Yes, damnit…" Meredith moaned, feeling the heat of him, the pure masculine strength that overwhelmed her. "Stop teasing me."

That was all the invitation he needed, toppling her onto her back and moving between her legs. He lifted her and put his mouth on her, using the same skill and passion as he had with her breasts. His tongue danced over her clit, probing inside her, and then sucking until she nearly screamed in ecstasy. Her climax rose and fell in intensity as he continued, every nerve in her body quivering from the pleasure. Only when she fell back in a boneless slump did he pull away slowly, getting to his feet.

Meredith watched, her eyes half-closed as he moved to unbuckle his belt, and impatiently push his pants off. He unbuttoned the shirt, tearing it away so that the sleeves turned inside out in his hurry to get back to her. His erection was throbbing, but he waited for a moment, his eyes locked with hers. She almost whistled at him, admiring the lean muscle of his chest and the taut definition of his abs. Then she realized he had a tattoo on his chest, a small stylized dragon; and a curved scar on his abdomen. Both of these hinted at some sort of background that didn't fit with his current persona, but at the moment it wasn't important. If anything, they merely added to the pure masculine appeal had been evident when he was dressed in his tailored suits, but this was all raw power that promised complete satisfaction.

She lifted her hand to him, and he joined her, the heat between them burning intensely. Her body hummed in delicious anticipation as he took his time to roll the condom in place, delaying the moment until she felt completely breathless. When he finally moved forward, she slid her hands around his waist, and welcomed him into her without any hesitation. Derek pushed into her as deeply as he could, so they both gasped at the sensation. It was too damn good to deny, and his eyes closed at how perfect it felt to be enveloped in her hot sheath.

"You feel just perfect, Meredith. You make me forget everything else…" he said softly, trailing kisses along her cheek, the edge of her mouth.

"You too…" she managed to whisper. She knew it would be like this, so intense and so passionate, unlike anything she'd felt before. It might be wrong, but at that moment she didn't care, it was pure physical satisfaction. She was close to the edge of her climax already, her body tingling in pleasure when he suddenly stopped and pulled back. "What…?"

"I want to see you," he muttered, looking at her in the dim light of the room. "I want to see you come and know that it's me doing this, making you fall apart, Meredith. I want to watch your face when I'm inside of you…" He gave her a slow, sensual smile that made her tighten around him.

"This is crazy…" she whispered, matching his smile.

"Completely insane," he agreed, angling his hips against her, supporting her in his arms. "Do you want to stop?"

"Don't you dare." Meredith challenged him to keep going, unable to stop even if she wanted to.

"I never back down from a challenge," he assured her, pressing down against her, as their rhythm picked up speed. With a little cry, she surrendered to the sensations, her inner muscles clutching his cock as she started to climax. Derek felt himself spasm with her, coming so hard and fast he felt light-headed. He finally collapsed against her, gasping for breath, as she buried her face against his shoulder, laughing a little at how overwhelmingly good she felt.

"Oh you're good," she sighed happily.

Taking a few minutes to recover before he sat back, Derek moved Meredith into a more comfortable position on his lap. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her damp forehead, and gave her a slight smile. "I don't usually do this," he murmured, surveying the heap of discarded clothing on the coffee table.

"You don't what?" Meredith giggled, still trying to catch her breath. "The sex part? Seriously?"

"I don't lose control."

"Ah, I see. So what happened with me, then?"

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "You have a strange effect on me, Ms Grey. I just hope you don't intend to use this in your next newspaper article about me."

"Hmm, I suppose I could be persuaded not to, Mr. Shepherd," she teased him, feeling strangely safe in his arms.

"What would it take to bribe you?" Before she could answer, he sat up quickly, looking towards the door of his office. "Wait, did you hear that?" he asked her quietly, tilting his head to listen.

Mutely, she shook her head, but her heart jumped just from the look on his face. She held her breath, listening intently as well, but she still couldn't hear anything. Derek slowly eased her off his lap, and motioned for her to stay put before he pulled his pants on and slipped his feet into his shoes. Slowly, he made his way towards the door, with a stealth that surprised her.

Derek opened the door, and peered out towards the kitchen. Only a few lights remained on, and nothing looked out of place as he walked through the area. It was only at the back door, where he noticed it was ajar that his steps slowed cautiously. Then he noticed the small envelope lying on the floor, and he stooped to retrieve it, blowing out an exasperated breath. "Damnit…"

"What is it?" Meredith asked from behind him, and he whirled around to glare at her.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in my office?" he demanded, slipping the envelope into his back pocket.

"Not in so many words." Meredith tried to peek around him, to see what he was hiding, but he grabbed her arm and steered her towards the front of the restaurant. "Was someone here, Derek? What's going on?"

"You ask too many questions. I think it's time for you to leave." The last thing he wanted was for her to find out someone was blackmailing him. "The door blew open, it does that sometimes."

"Fine." Meredith retrieved her coat and pulled it on, lifting her hair over the collar as she tried to figure out what he was up to. "But I think there's something you're not telling me."

Derek put his hands on her face and kissed her, long and slow and deep, so that she almost lost track of her thoughts. Letting her go, he gave her a dangerous smile and whispered in her ear. "There are all kinds of things I'm not telling you, honey. And I'm keeping it that way, even if we just had that round of sex, are we clear?"

She leaned a little closer, whispering back to him. "We'll see about that…_honey_." Then she kissed his lips again quickly, and turned to disappear out the door.

For a moment, Derek stared after her, a bemused smile on his lips. She seemed to enjoy walking away from him, having the last word. Then he turned his attention to the envelope in his pocket. It was the same as before, plain white paper inside, with a simple typed message.

_Time's running out, Derek. I want my painting. I'll be at the funeral, keeping an eye on you._


	7. Complications Arise

**As always, thank you all for the reviews and support! Lainey, I agree with you - it would be great to see PD in a darker, sexy kind of character like this - change it up from the romcom stuff he's been doing. **

** I'm glad you all enjoyed the steamy encounter, but you know it's not going to be the same in every chapter! Sometimes it just doesn't work for the update, and I hope you enjoy it just the same.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
Complications Arise  
**

"It's a beautiful day out there everyone! The sun is shining for a change, so let's get out there and enjoy it while it lasts!"

The cheerful voice of the radio DJ made Derek scowl as he drove through the traffic. With a flick of his wrist, he shut the radio off, preferring the silence instead. It _was_ sunny in Seattle, on this, the day of Gareth's funeral. It didn't suit Derek's mood, either, but he had to admit that Gareth would approve. He had always hated the rain, so maybe it was fitting that the sun had come out.

Pulling into the small parking lot next to the funeral chapel, Derek was surprised to see a few cars already there. He hadn't really expected too many people, but then, maybe some of them were reporters. Sure enough, he recognized a couple from the evening news, and he groaned inwardly. At least they would be kept outside, but it wouldn't be as easy to avoid them at the graveside. Maybe he could ask Hunt to keep them back, might as well make the man useful, after all.

He straightened his tie, and walked briskly towards the building. Along the way, he brushed aside their questions, something he was getting adept at doing. It was hard to believe not that long ago he would have welcomed the attention, hoping to bring more customers to Ravish, but not in this situation. He was just about to pull the door open, when he spotted Meredith standing off to the side. "Of course, you're here too," he said quietly. It was the first time he'd seen her since their steamy encounter, and his pulse jumped a bit in response. This time she was dressed more conservatively, wearing a simple black sweater and pencil skirt, her hair pulled back from her face. When their eyes met, she gave him a slight nod, but didn't move until he found himself raising his hand towards her.

"Hi," she murmured, coming up beside him. She didn't make any kind of move to indicate they had been intimately involved, but the memory of it flared between them unspoken just the same.

"I should have realized you'd be here."

Meredith shrugged a little. "Still part of my job. But I understand that getting scrutinized at this time has to be terrible."

"Thanks." Derek was grateful for her understanding, and his mouth tightened as he fought to keep from betraying too much emotion. "Are you coming inside?"

"Oh, hardly. I'm just here to observe, after all. As you and your lawyer made it quite clear, I'm not supposed to write about you and maybe I shouldn't even be in your presence. But then again, we did have intimate relations, even if we don't trust each other." Meredith smiled briefly. "Still not going to confide your secrets to me?"

Derek touched her arm. "Not really, Ms Grey."

"Back to formality, are we?" Her eyebrows went up a little. "Considering everything we did together, and where you had your mouth..."

"Don't..." he warned her, his eyes glittering in remembrance. He glanced towards the interior of the chapel, where the funeral director was waiting, along with the minister. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Now you want a favor, Mr. Shepherd?"

"Humor me. If you see anyone here that looks out of place, just let me know later?"

"Out of place how?"

"Just use your reporter's instinct, I'm sure you can do that."

Meredith looked around them before meeting his eyes again. "Okay, sure. But you sound kind of paranoid. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Not if I don't have to."

"Fine, but you owe me, honey…" she murmured, reaching up to adjust his already pristine jacket lapels. The thought of him naked and urgent over top of her came to her thoughts, and she flushed. The dark look in his eyes told her that he was thinking of their passionate encounter as well, but he managed to step back to focus on the current situation.

"I never forget a debt…_honey_…" he replied quietly, before turning away to walk inside.

* * *

After the brief service, where Derek had spoken a few words to the small group of mourners, the casket was moved outside. As he followed along, it felt almost surreal, reminding him of his mother's funeral, and he blinked quickly to take away the sting of tears. He had learned a long time ago not to show too much emotion, to keep all those thoughts locked up tightly so as not to interfere with his work. This was another of those thoughts to shut away, and he managed to pull himself together. Outside, the reporters had been kept at a distance by the police officers, and he nodded towards Det. Hunt in acknowledgement.

It was a short distance to the graveside, and he looked around more closely at the people who had joined him. Addison was there, and she gave him a reassuring smile. Several of the staff from Ravish had come out in support, along with other business acquaintances. There were a couple of men he didn't recognize, and he studied them carefully for a moment, realizing that Hunt was scrutinizing them as well. He really didn't know Gareth's friends, so it was possible they were just there to pay their respects. Some of the women he'd been involved with were there, including Anya. He realized with a start that he'd not spoken with her since Gareth's death, and completely forgotten about her when Meredith had shown up at his restaurant. She joined him, and he acknowledged her presence with a slight nod, taking her hand.

"Thank you for being here," he murmured. "We need to talk later."

"I understand, darling. You've been preoccupied." She kissed his cheek, and he was overcome with the cloying scent of her perfume.

Then he caught sight of Meredith in the crush of reporters behind the officers, giving the two of them an appraising look. As if this wasn't bad enough, he thought, pulling away from Anya. A funeral wasn't supposed to be this complicated.

He realized then that there was another woman that hovered at the periphery of the mourners, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He didn't recognize her, but she seemed genuinely distraught, staring at the casket. Taking the opportunity to excuse himself from Anya, he approached her. "Excuse me, but were you a friend of Gareth's?" he asked.

For a second, she didn't respond, gathering herself. "Yes, we were involved. Didn't he tell you about me?"

Derek looked at her more closely. She was dark haired, and dark eyed, with a curvy figure that was obvious even in the simple black dress she wore. "I'm sorry, no…you are?"

"Callie Torres. We've been seeing…I mean, we_ had_ been seeing each other for a few months now. I can't believe he's dead."

"Why haven't you been in touch with me before this?"

"I didn't feel right about it. But I just couldn't stay away today. I just needed to say good-bye." Tears slid down her cheeks again.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea he had a girlfriend, but then we didn't talk much in the last few months." Derek wondered if she had any idea of Gareth's background, or if maybe she was involved in whatever Gareth had been doing.

She smiled a little. "He talked about you a lot."

Before Derek could respond, Anya claimed him again. "Darling, the minister is asking for you."

"Just give me a minute here," he said, turning to look at Callie again. But she'd hurried away while he was distracted. He saw her disappearing through the gravestones, and he resolved to find out more about her. Obviously Hunt hadn't discovered her either, or he would've said something about it. They needed to have a conversation about that.

"Who was that?"

"Apparently Gareth's girlfriend." Derek pulled his arm away. "We'll talk later, Anya."

Meredith watched Derek pull away from the statuesque woman with hair so perfect she looked like she stepped out of a L'Oreal commercial. It gave her a slight satisfaction, before she looked around at the rest of the group. No one looked out of place, just the usual social and business crowd that Derek would know as the owner of a successful restaurant in Seattle. Then again, some of those men looked rather menacing and she wondered if they had been part of Gareth's money problems. She realized that Det. Hunt was keeping an eye on everything, along with several other officers keeping all of the reporters at bay. She hated funerals, really, this wasn't the place she wanted to be, but it was part of her job. It reminded her too much of family she had lost herself, but she shook off the feeling of melancholy to pay attention to the present moment. Besides the glamorous diva, there were several other females clustered behind Derek. Meredith assumed some of them were ex-girlfriends, but she hadn't made notes on them. None of them looked dangerous, unless you counted the stilettos on their feet. But there was another woman Derek had been speaking to that seemed upset, and hurried away before he could finish the conversation from the looks of it. Meredith frowned, wondering what that was all about.

Then she turned her attention to the minister speaking the last blessing over the casket. Derek had closed his eyes, and she had an urge to go over and try to comfort him, even though she knew that was wrong on so many levels. He seemed almost detached, ye she could see how he clenched his fists, and she wondered again about his guilt or innocence. He was definitely a complicated man, and she couldn't help but be fascinated by him.

From a few yards away, behind a stand of weeping birch trees that spread their branches along the edge of a decorative pond, a figure in black observed the proceedings. "Oh, Derek, you've become such a player, haven't you? All these women surrounding you is isn't exactly what you need to accomplish your task...you need to focus. I need to do something else to get things moving."

* * *

Derek took a deep breath as the casket started to lower into the ground. "I'll find out what happened to you, Gareth, I swear," he whispered, once it was completely out of sight. He was aware of Addison at his side, keeping a slight respectful distance. The rest of the people drifted away slowly, and he could hear the light chatter of women's voices as they headed back to their cars. He really had nothing to say to them anyway, and he was grateful they had left him alone.

"Derek, do you want me to wait for you?" Addison inquired softly. "Maybe you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Just give me a moment, would you?" Derek gave her a slight smile. He could see Det. Hunt lingering with some of the plainclothes detectives as well, and he wondered if they had spotted anyone. Then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see the text message notification. It was from Richard, and he scanned it quickly.

_I'm sorry I missed the funeral, Derek. My flight was delayed, but I'd like to meet you at your restaurant for a drink, give my condolences._

Derek tapped in a reply that he would be at Ravish within the hour, and he would meet Richard in the lounge. He wasn't aware of Meredith approaching him, until he felt her hand on his arm.

"You holding up all right?" she asked quietly.

His lips twisted briefly, as he slipped the phone back in his pocket. "I'll manage, thanks, I always do. Did you see anyone that looked out of place?"

"Some of those men maybe, but who was that woman you were talking to earlier? The woman with the black hair that took off before the service was over?"

"Gareth's girlfriend, Callie Torres."

Meredith made a note of the girl's name. "I'll check her out. I take it you didn't know her?"

"Complete surprise."

"That other group of women fluttering around you obviously know you. I assume they're your exes? You seem to have good relationships with them."

"They were aware of the way things work, Ms Grey. We always part on good terms," Derek frowned. "But I don't think my romantic relationships should have any bearing on what happened to Gareth. Or are you jealous?"

"Hardly, Mr. Shepherd. As you say, we had nothing serious, right?" Meredith slipped on her sunglasses, and tucked her purse under her arm firmly. "I have to get back to the office."

"Wait, thank you for being here, and for indulging my paranoia," Derek said. "Let me buy you dinner, you said I owed you for this. I do pay my debts."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on if I take you up on that?"

"We'll see, Ms Grey. Can you come by the restaurant tomorrow night?"

"I can do that. Does this invitation include another round of hot sex in your office?" she laughed softly.

He raised his eyebrow. "Dessert is always optional."

* * *

A short time later, Derek welcomed Richard into the restaurant, and they settled into a booth in a quiet corner of Ravish's bar. They had a bottle of very old, very smooth Macallan Scotch between them on the table, and their glasses were raised in a toast. "To Gareth..." Derek said quietly.

"Indeed. Far too young to suffer that fate," Richard noted, taking a sip of his drink.

"I was going to call you if you hadn't shown up today."

"I realize we've lost touch, Derek, but when I saw the articles in the paper, I knew I needed to come and pay my respects. Carolyn would have wanted someone to support you." Richard swirled the Scotch in his glass for a moment. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Gareth was involved in something when he died, a theft of a rather valuable canvas. He tried to get me involved, but I couldn't jeopardize what I have here. That life is behind me."

"Indeed. That must have been what you were arguing about in that picture that was in the paper," Richard observed, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes. But there was someone else that knew about it, someone that killed Gareth in an attempt to take the painting from him. Gareth had already hidden it and sent me the instructions on where to find it. Now I'm being blackmailed to give it up, or he, or she, will frame me for the murder."

"I see. Do you have any idea who this person is?"

"None. I was thinking that if I could return the painting, I could defuse the situation. But I have no idea who Gareth stole it from either; he didn't share that with me." Derek finished his drink, and poured another one. Richard shook his head as Derek tilted the bottle his direction.

"I'm trying to cut back." Richard leaned back against the seat. "What is the painting? Is it really that valuable?"

Derek nodded. "Oh, it's valuable all right. I'm sure it belongs in a museum, so whoever owned it was likely keeping it secret. I thought you might have some insight on that."

"You think it might have been mine?"

"It crossed my mind," Derek admitted.

"I can assure you, I'm not missing any paintings. What is it? Maybe I've heard gossip about it."

"It's a small Monet," Derek said, telling him about the canvas. "Richard, you always know what's going on in the art world. You know who's buying and selling, who has the lax security and who needs the insurance money. I have to admit, since I started this place, I haven't kept up with any of that."

"You were always the best, Derek. I like what you've done to pull yourself out of that life; this is a great restaurant. I'll do anything I can to help you."

"Thank you." Derek felt some relief at having told Richard about what was going on, but he decided to keep the whereabouts of the painting to himself for the moment. The less people that knew where it was for the moment, the better.

* * *

Meredith settled into the comfy cushions of her sofa, kicking her shoes off thankfully. It had been a long day, and she had finished writing a small piece about Gareth's funeral in time for the next day's paper. While they were still not able to write about Derek's situation, the funeral was public interest, and she had kept the focus away from any issue of Derek's guilt or innocence.

She leaned back, and took a welcome swallow of icy cold chardonnay, thinking about his invitation for dinner tomorrow. Obviously she wasn't going there to seduce him this time; it was more of a 'date' than anything else. She smiled a little, letting her thoughts drift. Funerals were always depressing; she'd gone through a bad time herself when her mother died two years ago. Still, at that time it hadn't been a sudden wrenching death, but more of a thankful release after her mother's prolonged illness. Ellis Grey had been a renowned surgeon, at the same hospital where Cristina now worked. Not the greatest mother in the usual sense of the word, but Meredith had managed to grow up well enough despite that. In fact, she felt a little more independent than some of the girls she had grown up with; able to live on her own without depending on someone else, and having a practical outlook on life were a couple things she credited Ellis with. Ellis had never quite understood Meredith's choice of work, but supported her decision if that was truly Meredith's ambition.

There was a sharp rap on the front door, and she sat up quickly, roused out of her thoughts. She padded barefoot to the door, and peeked outside the window, expecting to see someone collecting money for some charity or other, but the small verandah was empty. "Weird," she murmured, about to turn away to make herself something to eat, when she spotted an envelope hanging halfway out of the mailbox. "Even weirder..." she added, opening the door and pulling the envelope out of the box.

In the course of writing for the paper, she'd received anonymous tips from time to time, but they didn't normally show up in her mailbox at home. No one was supposed to have her home address, for that matter. This was a plain envelope with her name typed on the front of it. She hesitated for a moment, and then slid the flap open with her fingernail. Inside was a black and white photo, and she gasped when she realized what it was. It had been taken at the cemetery, of her and Derek, standing close together when they had been speaking alone. "Shit, he wasn't being paranoid," she whispered, turning it over to check the back. There were a few words scrawled in black ink.

_You're a smart woman, don't be fooled by his charm. He's not the upstanding citizen he pretends to be. Check into it._

* * *

After Richard left, promising to make some discreet inquiries about the owner of the Monet, Derek was about to check on how the dinner crowd was coming along, when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it quickly, thinking maybe Meredith was calling, but it was Det. Hunt again. For a second, he debated whether to answer or not, but decided it wasn't wise to avoid the police. If he had learned anything, it was cooperate with the law to keep them from digging into things too closely.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me about the life insurance policy, Mr. Shepherd?" Hunt asked, without any pleasantries.

"Excuse me?"

"The policy you took out on Gareth, for $1,000,000.00. Didn't you think I would find out?"

Derek felt his gut tighten at the realization of what Hunt had just said. "I swear, I didn't do that. Why would I?"

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that fact, Shepherd. It's a good motive for murder, don't you think?"

"Yes, but why would I do something so damn obvious?" Derek snapped.

"So someone else took out this policy to set you up? I should just toss this aside and forget about it? My boss wouldn't be too happy with me if I did that, Shepherd."

Derek debated whether or not to confide in Hunt about the blackmail, but at the moment it didn't seem like an option. "Are you going to arrest me on that basis?"

"Much as I'd like to, we're still in the process of collecting evidence. So, you're a free man for now. Just don't leave town, you know the drill."

"Fine. Consider me warned." Derek ran his hand through his hair in irritation. "Look, did you see that girl at the funeral?"

"Which one? You had so many around you," Hunt said dryly.

"The dark haired one, who left in a hurry. She told me she was seeing Gareth, for a couple of months. Maybe she knows something."

"I hadn't turned up anything about a girl before, either your brother was keeping it a secret, or she's lying about it. Let me see what I can find out."

"Thanks. Mer…I mean, Ms Grey, said she would check as well."

"I see, well, maybe I should just compare notes with her then. Leave this to the police, Mr. Shepherd. Your reporter girlfriend could get herself in trouble. Tell her to back off."

"You have no idea how stubborn she is, Hunt. You can tell her to back off," Derek said. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"You seemed quite cozy at the funeral today. Is she getting some exclusive on you?"

"Hardly. She just has a way of showing up."

"Sure, if you say so. I'll be sure to let you know if anything turns up. Or if she finds something, maybe you could call me," Hunt said dryly.


	8. Feeling the Hunger

**Thank you all for your kind words, and your patience regarding the delay in getting this chapter done. I know we all need to deal with sad events in our lives from time to time, so I won't go on and on about it but I do appreciate the support. All I'm going to say is that pets give us such unconditional love, and if you're lucky enough to share your life with one, cherish the time you have with them...it goes by too quickly.**

**Moving forward, here goes the next chapter...will Meredith decide to keep her date with Derek? Let's find out...**

* * *

**Chapter Eight  
Feeling the Hunger  
**

Meredith hurried into Mark's office in the morning, and closed the door behind her. He looked up from his laptop, and raised his eyebrow at her agitated expression, as she sat down without saying anything. "Well, good morning to you too, Grey…what's up?" She held up the photo of Derek and her at the cemetery, and Mark whistled as he took it from her. He read the words on the back, before glancing at her. "Is there something you want to tell me about this?"

"Someone left that in my mailbox, Mark. No one is supposed to give out my home address; I don't even have my phone number listed. How did this person find me?" she demanded. "It freaked me out."

"Someone is watching Shepherd, and obviously followed you. This is probably the same person who took that picture of the Shepherd brothers outside of Ravish," Mark mused. "You do look kind of _involved_ in this photo…is he charming?"

"He's smooth and charming, and complicated as hell. I'm sure I have no idea who the 'real' Derek is," she admitted. "Anything I've tried to discover about his past life seems to be pretty basic stuff. If he's done anything criminal he's hidden it well."

"Everyone has their secrets. I'm sure you have several of your own."

"We're not discussing me, Mark," Meredith said firmly. "If someone is following Derek, and taking pictures of him, that's kind of a big deal."

"You have to admit _you've_ been following him too, Grey. Are you really that freaked out?" Mark asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Fine, but I'm not supposed to be the one in the photos! It's not funny, Mark. I checked my doors and windows three times before I went to bed, and even then I didn't sleep very well. I've never been this close to someone I'm writing about, maybe it's not a good idea. If Derek's got someone after him, what if I become collateral damage?"

"I told you, just come and stay with me for a while. I'll protect you."

"Thanks but no thanks. Cristina was right, I need to sign up for those self-defense classes with her." Meredith crossed her legs, and her foot jiggled the sandal free in her agitation. In fact, she had discussed the photo with Cristina last night, when she hadn't been able to sleep. As always, Cristina had been practical, telling Meredith to stay away from Derek if that would make her feel better. And in theory, Meredith realized it was good advice, even if she wasn't sure she could follow it. After ending her conversation, Meredith had tossed and turned in bed, wondering what to do. All of her searches on him had turned up nothing, yet she sensed there was definitely something underneath that smooth facade of his. The intimacies they had shared only served to fuel her desire for more, but was she just setting herself up for trouble by seeing him again?

"What is it, Grey?" Mark asked, after she'd been silent for awhile. "Thinking about kneeing someone in the crotch again?"

"Derek invited me to dinner at Ravish tonight, maybe I should cancel," she sighed.

"Are you kidding me? This is the best opportunity you could ask for! Besides, you'll be out in public, what can go wrong?"

"What happened to protecting me?"

"Seriously, Meredith, you're the strongest woman I know," Mark told her truthfully. "I have no doubt you'll be able to have Shepherd wrapped around your little finger. Obviously he's interested in you, or he wouldn't ask you there. And, on the other hand, he seems like the kind of guy who would look out for you, if the situation warranted it. He has that look about him."

Meredith nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right."

"Besides, if he's invited you on a date, you won't be charging dinner on your expense account," Mark grinned.

"You're impossible. Here I am, telling you my fears, and you're worried about the expenses!" Meredith said, getting to her feet in exasperation. She snatched the photo out of his hands. "Thanks for the pep talk, boss!"

"That's what I'm here for! Just keep your cell phone charged up so you can call for back up if you need anything!"

Meredith didn't bother with an answer, just raised her hand with her middle finger raised as she stormed out of office.

* * *

Derek studied the small painting again, as if he could find a clue to Gareth's death hidden in the picture. Between the blackmail, the life insurance policy, and Gareth's supposed girlfriend, it was starting to make him extremely uneasy. There were several people in his past that would love to see him brought down, but none of them knew his real name. He had always been careful to keep his true identity a secret, using aliases and making sure to keep his face covered if he had to meet with a buyer. Only a few trusted friends knew the truth, and he was quite sure they wouldn't betray him…would they?

"Damnit!" he muttered, pushing back in his chair. He glanced at his watch, realizing that it was almost time to meet Meredith. While part of him wondered if she'd turned up anything on Callie, he realized he was looking forward to just seeing her again. With that thought in mind, he locked the painting away again, and went to confer with the staff to make sure everything was ready for the evening's business.

* * *

Meredith paused briefly at the ornate front door to Ravish, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. She had managed to conquer her fit of uncertainty, and planned to do her best to draw Derek out with some questions. She had managed to slip past the few other reporters that were loitering around the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Derek. As if he would be going out that way, she thought, rolling her eyes.

"Do you have a reservation…?" The hostess that presided over the entrance raised one elegantly groomed eyebrow at Meredith, before looking down at the sleek Apple iPad in her hands. "Ms…?"

"Grey, Meredith Grey…I'm not sure if…"

"Ah, yes of course, Ms. Grey. Mr. Shepherd told me to show you right in." This time Meredith was given a much warmer smile, before the woman ushered her into the restaurant. It was busy, but the conversation was a subdued hum in the background and waiters moved efficiently between the tables. It was all understated and elegant, and she was looking forward to the meal. She really hadn't taken the time to appreciate the surroundings the last time she'd been there; her focus had been on the man, not the setting. And the short time in the lounge hadn't given her the full impact of it all.

"Here we are," the hostess said, indicating a small table tucked away discreetly, close to the fireplace that dominated the room. The restaurant was designed in such a way that it gave privacy to the diners; something that she realized was a good thing in this case. "Mr. Shepherd will be joining you as soon as he can. He's selected a bottle of wine for your meal, and instructed me to bring you whatever you might want as a cocktail."

"Oh, well he's certainly thoughtful, isn't he?"

"He certainly is."

"I'll have a vodka tonic with a twist of lime, please," Meredith decided, thinking that a shot of tequila might not be the cocktail of choice.

"Be right back." The hostess swiveled in her dainty shoes, and walked away quickly. Meredith settled back in the chair, wondering how long it would before Derek made an appearance. She glanced at her watch, wondering how long it would be before Derek was able to see her.

It was barely a couple of minutes later when a glass was set in front of her, and she raised her eyes to thank the hostess. Instead, she met Derek's intense blue gaze. "Your drink, Ms Grey," he said softly.

"Oh, thank you! I wasn't expecting you so quickly, or for you to be serving my drink."

"I'm extremely punctual, and I do my best to keep the customers happy," he confessed, taking the chair across from her, setting his own glass of Scotch down, and smoothing his tie into place. "I wasn't entirely sure you would show up."

"I wasn't entirely sure I would be here either, but I don't turn down an offer of dinner, especially somewhere this lovely."

"You look just as lovely," he commented with a little smile.

"Oh god, does that line usually work for you?" she laughed.

"Usually," he admitted. "I'm hoping to get off to a better start with you, Ms Grey."

"Seriously, we're alone here, I think you can forego the formality." Meredith raised her glass towards him, before taking a sip. "After all, you've seen me naked."

"Since you put it that way..." Derek smiled, raising his glass as well and observing her over the rim suggestively.

"You're picturing that right now, aren't you?"

"Only since you brought it up."

Shaking her head at him, Meredith tried to bring the conversation back to him. "I do appreciate the invitation to dinner, Derek. This really is a fantastic place. You must be very proud of what you've accomplished."

"It's what I dreamed of for a long time, and I love it."

"It shows," she smiled at him, noting the way his eyes lit up as he glanced around the busy room. Even though he was with her, she could tell he was still watching what was going on, noting every detail. "Your brother wasn't interested in joining you in this?"

"No, Gareth had other…interests…" Derek said, not elaborating.

Meredith nodded, thinking of Gareth's criminal record. "Interests that included theft and larceny?"

"I realize you've got the sordid criminal details. He was a troubled young man, despite my best efforts to reform him," Derek said. "He was spoiled from an early age."

"Your mother left you both some money, but you didn't come from a wealthy background did you?"

"Meredith, much as I think you'd like to paint a difficult background for us, so to speak, we had a relatively normal childhood. But I'm not really in the mood to discuss that," he told her, finishing his drink and setting the glass down decisively "I'd much rather discuss you." He looked at her, his eyes taking in the black dress that hugged her curves, and her hair that fell over her shoulders. There was a delicate chain around her neck with a small diamond heart glittering against her skin.

"That's not part of my job."

"Are you working right now? Do I need to check you for a wire?"

"I'm not recording this, trust me."

"Oh, but it would be my pleasure to search you. As I recall, there's not much between the dress and your skin," he said softly, his eyes glinting with the memory of her body.

"I didn't come here to seduce you this time."

"Ah, then I'm disappointed."

"Have you been drinking? I thought you wouldn't be inclined to flirt tonight."

Derek shrugged lightly. "I told you before, I'm a realist, Meredith. I'm still here, and life goes on. But I did promise you dinner, so what are you hungry for?"

For a second, Meredith hesitated, thinking of hungers that had nothing to do with food. Did every conversation with him seem to shift into sexual innuendo, or was that just her imagination? From the look in his eyes, she didn't think so. "I'm not fussy, whatever you can recommend…it's your restaurant after all," she said, smiling a little.

"So you're not limited to a diet of salad?"

"Not so much. I love to eat, but then I have to work out like a fiend," she confessed, raising her glass. "And I usually drink tequila, which isn't really good for me either. But we all have our bad habits, I suppose."

"We do." Derek raised his hand to signal the waiter over, quietly instructing what he wanted for the meal, along with the wine that he'd picked out earlier. "And a shot of the Patron Silver and another of these…" He indicated his own empty glass.

"You didn't need to order the tequila," Meredith said, raising her eyebrow at him.

"It's what you wanted."

"Thank you."

"Consider it part of my debt payback," he said, giving her a slight smile.

"Are you always so conscientious?"

"I try my best."

"So tell me about Gareth…" she suggested, trying to bring the conversation back to the topic she was interested in. "Even if you are moving on with life, it still must be a shock."

"Meredith, we weren't that close. He may have been family, but we had our separate lives for many years. Do you have any family like that?"

"I'm an only child, my mother died a few years ago, and my father was out of my life early on," Meredith explained quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, really. My mother was kind of work obsessed, and I basically raised myself."

"So what made you decide to become a reporter?"

"I'm not sure; I've always been interested in other people, their stories, and their lives. Of course, most of the stuff I write is not that serious."

"Until this time," Derek said, raising his eyebrow.

"True. You have to admit, it has all the elements of a big story. Don't try to tell me you don't know that."

"I realize that, even though I don't like it."

Their drinks arrived and he lifted his glass towards her. "It's been a helluva week, let's hope for a swift end to all of this."

Meredith touched her shot glass to his glass. "Much as I sympathize, I don't think you're going to get your wish. They don't have a suspect, from what I know. That means Hunt is going to focus on you even more. If you can think of anyone that might have had a motive, you have to tell him. Like whoever you wanted me to look for at the cemetery…?"

Derek swirled the smoky Scotch in his glass quietly for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to answer her or not.

"I thought we were going to focus on you, and you've managed to turn it back on me," he said finally.

"It's what I do," she reminded him. As their appetizers arrived, along with the bottle of wine, she wondered whether or not to mention the photo. Derek waved the waiter away, taking the corkscrew in hand himself to open the bottle. She watched him expertly uncork it, and set it aside to breathe. "You do that very well, have you always been interested in the restaurant business?"

'Like I said before, it was my dream for many years. And I've worked hard to achieve it."

"Of course, that's right. But you have to realize I've done some checking into your background, and the fact is you didn't inherit enough to make all of this a reality. As a matter of fact, your background is rather mysterious. How did you make your money, Derek?" Meredith speared a succulent shrimp from her plate, waiting for his answer. Again, he didn't speak right away, preferring to pour some of the wine into his glass to taste it. As he swirled the dark red wine, she put the shrimp against her lips, teasing her tongue over the creamy garlic sauce. Her eyes caught his, as they exchanged a slow sensual look.

"How I made my money is none of your business, Meredith," he said slowly, watching her tongue slide along the shrimp, before she bit down on it. "I may have done some things I'm not proud of in my life, but I didn't kill my brother."

Meredith savored the delicate shrimp for a moment. "I didn't accuse you of that, did I?"

"Not tonight, but it's there, in your eyes. You still don't trust me, do you?"

"You did tell me not to, as I recall."

"Touché," he said, pouring some of the wine into both their glasses. "So tell me, what made you dig more into my background?"

Meredith shrugged lightly. "I may have had an anonymous source make some suggestions..."

"What?" Derek's eyes flashed in sudden concern. "When was this?"

Before Meredith could reply, his cell phone interrupted them, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check the call display. "Excuse me, I should take this," he muttered, getting to his feet. She watched him walk away, and she was struck again by the way he moved without wasting effort. She took a sip of wine, and closed her eyes in appreciation at the smooth rich taste on her tongue. If nothing else, the drinks were excellent, she mused.

* * *

"Richard, did you find out anything?" Derek asked, as soon as he was alone in his office.

"Nothing yet, I have a few inquiries out, I'm sure something will turn up soon. I was just calling to see how you were holding up."

"Well enough, I'm having dinner with Meredith Grey, the reporter from the Seattle Enquirer."

"Interesting dinner companion, Derek. I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with her."

"Well, she has a way of getting around my defenses," Derek admitted dryly. "I appreciate your call, and what you're doing. Just be careful. I don't know who is behind the blackmail and he's obviously dangerous."

"I'm the soul of discretion, you can count on me. Now I'll let you get back to your dinner. Maybe I should tell you to be careful, as well…Ms Grey can be just as dangerous with her pen."

"And I'm well aware of that. Talk to you soon."

Derek slid his phone into his pocket, and stepped out of his office. The kitchen was running smoothly, and there didn't appear to be any problems in the bar, so he started towards Meredith. He was intercepted by the hostess, who was carrying an envelope in her hand. His pulse jumped, recognizing the small square.

"Sorry to bother you, but this was just dropped off for you. I was told it was very urgent, and to give it to you immediately."

"Who gave this to you?" he asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Just a guy…"

"Did he leave?" Derek was already moving quickly towards the entrance, where several dinner patrons were still coming in.

"Yes, why?"

Derek made his way through the group, but he was waylaid by a few people that wanted to gush about how much they loved the restaurant. By the time he was able to look outside, there was no sign of anyone who might have left the envelope. "Damnit…" he frowned, heading back inside.

"Is everything all right?" Alicia, the hostess, inquired as he strode past her.

"It's fine, just hoped to find the guy who left that. If anyone leaves a note again, please make sure they wait for me to speak to them, all right?"

"Sure, I'm sorry…"

"Not your fault." Derek smiled slightly to reassure her. He ripped the envelope open as he walked, and scanned the note inside.

_Hope you have a nice meal with that pretty reporter, Derek. She doesn't seem like your usual type...she's smart and she's determined to find out the truth. _

Meredith looked up as Derek slid into the chair opposite her. His expression seemed a little more distant than when he'd left her. "Is everything all right?"

"Just dealing with a few things," he replied, his voice cooler than before as well.

"Don't try to fool me, Derek. I'm a reporter, remember?" she reminded him quietly. "Something's happened to make you freaked out. Something similar to the other night when I was here. Are you going to tell me what's going on, or not?"

"I'm not about to share my problems with you. I don't want to see them spread out on the front page," he said shortly. He grabbed his drink, and swallowed the rest of the Scotch in one gulp.

Meredith looked at his fingers that clutched the glass, the same fingers that had caressed her before. She had a sudden vivid remembrance of being with him, of how he had felt on top of her, inside of her, and she shifted in her chair. She wanted to be there again, spread apart beneath him, as he thrust in and out of her so slowly that she shook from the feeling. It was all wrong, she wanted his touch too damn much; she should know better. "Fine, then I should go, because this is just not getting us anywhere," she managed to tell him softly.

"Fine…go…" he agreed. "This isn't a good idea."

"What isn't a good idea? Being with me? Or wanting to share your problems with me?" she asked. "I can help you."

"Meredith, the only way you can help me is to be naked in my bed," he said, taking her hand. "I told you, my relationships are based on sex, pure and simple. I'm not in the mood to discuss my problems, or try to convince you of my innocence. We had a good time before, why not continue like that?" His tone was persuasive and predatory and her body responded despite herself. "I'm being honest with you about that, I hope you can accept the situation."

"And if I get up and walk away?"

"Then I accept it. But I hope you don't."

The waiter arrived with their meals, and she took the moment to pull herself together. Despite her misgivings, she knew damn well she wasn't about to get up and walk away from him. The pull of seduction between them was far too strong for that to happen. When they were alone again, Derek looked at her, waiting for her answer.

"Just one question…" she started, and his eyebrow lifted. "Can we finish dinner first?" The plate of food in front of her looked absolutely mouthwatering.

For a second Derek stared at her silently, before breaking into a soft laugh. "Of course, I'd hate for you to starve."

"Or offend your chef if we sent this back uneaten," she added, picking up her fork.

"God forbid, he's a diva as it is; he would be impossible to deal with," Derek agreed. He took his wine glass and drank some of it before he took his fork as well. At least they could enjoy the meal, and then he would consider what to tell her once they were alone, or maybe there wouldn't be any conversation at all…


	9. Like Sugar

**Thank you again for the lovely reviews to the last chapter! I'm glad you're all so invested in the story, and I truly wish I could update more frequently but you know how real life has this annoying tendency to get in the way of doing the extra stuff! The days manage to slide away from you before you know it! **

**And so here we are again, with our favorite couple still evading real conversation in favor of seduction...but then that's not always a bad thing is it? Still, they may find that they're getting in deeper than they first realized! Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, Hunt has received some news that could cause trouble.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine  
Like Sugar  
**

_I'm starting to want you  
More than I want to  
This ain't my finest hour  
There's something about you  
That I could get into  
Something that's deep inside you_

_I just wanna make you go away  
But you taste like sugar  
Yeah you taste like sugar_

Meredith turned away from the expanse of windows that overlooked Elliot Bay, an expression of wonder on her face. It was late in the evening, after finishing their wine and the wonderful meal. Derek had whisked her away from the restaurant in his Porsche, evading the last of the reporters that lingered around the building hoping to get a comment or two. She'd felt exhilarated from the combination of the expert way he handled the car to the feel of the butter soft leather surrounding her to the anticipation of what the rest of the night would bring. Now here in his magnificent home, it was enough to take her breath away. "You're so lucky to have this view, it's amazing," she said, seeing him heading towards her.

Derek crossed the floor, his steps quiet as a cat on the tiles. He had discarded his jacket and tie, leaving a few buttons on his shirt undone. Soft jazzy music was playing the background, and a few lamps were casting warm pools of light. If he was doing his best to set the scene for seduction, he was doing a damn good job she realized. Then he was there next to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, to turn her towards the windows again. "I have to agree with you about the view. All it takes is money."

Acutely aware of the warmth of his body behind her, and the touch of his fingers on her bare shoulders, Meredith fought to keep her voice steady. "Does everything have a price then?"

"Hmmm, money is just a means to an end, but I do like to be comfortable." His lips grazed the back of her neck where he'd swept her hair aside. "But I don't believe we came here to discuss the view or the price of having that view…" His hands slid down her body, coming to rest at her hips. "I thought we had mutual desires to satisfy."

"So we're not talking, then?" she breathed. "Just having sex?"

"Talking is over rated, don't you think?" Derek could see her reflection in the darkened glass, her head tilted back against him as his hands moved over the material of her dress. He cupped her breasts, and heard the little intake of breath as she responded. "Just relax and enjoy the moment, let yourself feel, don't think about what you should or shouldn't do…"

Meredith was caught in the seductive sound of his voice, his mouth at her ear. The slow beat of the music made her hips sway as she was definitely caught up in the moment. As if sensing her decision, his touch on her breasts grew more insistent, so that her nipples responded under his palms. Her body quivered and she sighed softly before he spun her around and pushed her backwards against the cool glass. His mouth ravaged hers then, tongue demanding her response. He held her hands up over her head, keeping her captive and she moaned in appreciation. Her hips bucked upwards against his, her breathing hitching. Her core throbbed, each push against his cock made her even more aroused.

He lifted his head, and looked at her, seeing her hazy eyes and flushed skin. "I've been a little obsessed with thinking about this since the last time." He kissed her again, needing to taste her mouth, just as much as she needed him. This time the kiss went on longer, as he took his time to tease and arouse her. Then his hands were easing her dress up her hips, making contact with her skin. "Aha…naked skin under silk again…you do love to torment me, don't you?" he asked softly, leaning closer, his breath fanning her cheek. She could hear the amusement in his voice, along with heat and seduction.

"I suppose I was a little obsessed with you too," she confessed. "I must have let my dirty subconscious take over." Her legs spread slightly, as his fingers inched higher; seeking the wetness he knew was there. His thumb grazed her clit, and she whimpered slightly at the sudden pleasure that flooded her.

"Teasing me will only get you into trouble," he grinned, taking her hand. "Come with me."

"What…?" Meredith blinked at him, a little dazed at the sudden movement. She fully expected him to take her to the bedroom, but he directed her to the French doors that opened onto the patio that wrapped around the side of the house. "Outside?"

"Feeling adventurous?" he countered, winking at her.

The air was warm and humid outside, wrapping them in a damp blanket. There was no rain, only a little mist, and the moon was peeking out from behind scattered clouds. The patio was just as luxurious as the rest of the house, with several chairs and lounges grouped together. But her attention was caught by the pots of flowers arranged there as well. Several groupings of white roses in pots, along with topiary trees, masses of lilies and myriads of tiny white blossoms she couldn't even begin to identify. It all seemed to float in the darkness, and perfume the air with their heady scent.

"The flowers are stunning, I never pictured you as a gardener," she murmured, touching her fingertip to one velvety rose petal.

"I give credit to Lucinda, my housekeeper, she's the one who looks after it for me. But I enjoy having it here. It appeals to my sense of artistry," he said.

"Oh, you like art? Because of your mother?"

"More than you can imagine," he replied mysteriously, as he plucked one of the roses to give her.

She inhaled its scent as he led her towards one of the lounge chairs, pulling her down to his lap. "You're just full of secrets, aren't you?"

"We all have secrets, Meredith," he told her, before pressing his lips to her throat. His hands pushed her dress high up on her hips, to expose her to his appreciative gaze. "No one can see us out here. Do you trust me about this?"

Meredith bit her lip, as she considered his question. "We might have trust issues, Derek, but right now I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," she replied softly, trailing the rose over his chest.

"Good answer." He took the rose from her fingers and used it to caress her inner thighs, and she quivered in surprise at the feel of it. Then the petals brushed her damp folds, soft and slow, and her pulse jumped in response. The petals trailed lower, as his mouth grazed her nipples through the fabric of her dress. She was lost in the intoxicating scent of the rose, and the fiery desire that was building between them. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, needing to feel his skin as well.

Once again, she was intrigued by the tattoo on his chest and she took a moment to run her fingers over it. "Is this something symbolic?" she asked.

"More of a youthful moment of insanity," he replied, recalling the circumstances that led to it. Too much alcohol and bravado after pulling off a particularly tricky heist, celebrating with Gareth in some hole in the wall bar before stumbling into the tattoo shop was something he'd regretted the morning after. Still, he'd kept it, to remind himself not to be reckless like that again.

Meredith waited for him to explain, but instead, he wrapped his arms around her to press her against him, the rose abandoned and crushed between them. He kissed her, his tongue raiding her mouth, demanding her complete surrender. All thoughts of his tattoo were scattered from her conscious thought process. His hips lifted, his cock hard through the fabric of his pants, rubbing against her in a heated frenzy. "More..." she managed to whisper, before he smoothly lifted her dress over her head.

"I can't get enough of you like this," he muttered. His hands were shaking, as he quickly undid the belt and zipper on his pants, freeing himself for her. "I just need to have my hands on you, I want to be inside of you, and I want all of you so damn much." His voice was rough as he told her how badly he wanted her, that he was consumed with her. As he spoke, he struggled to get the condom in place, and he nearly groaned in his frustration.

"Let me..." she whispered, putting her fingers over his, helping him with it. Then she shifted over him, to take him into her in one slow sweet slide. "I want you just as badly, Derek. There's no denying that."

Derek pulled her towards him, his eyes mysteriously dark in the moonlight so that he looked like a sinful apparition. His hands cupped and stroked her breasts, up and around the soft skin, while her gaze met his. Then she brought her mouth to his, teasingly at first, and then with more urgency while his hands moved to pull her even closer. The air was scented with the heat of their passion, and the perfume of the flowers, and it almost seemed too perfect. At that point, neither of them had the ability to control the moment, as the tension built and his hips drove upwards and the release took them both over the edge.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Owen was sitting at his desk in the squad room at the Seattle police department. He had the book on Gareth's case open in front of him, a cup of stale coffee in his hand. He was getting frustrated with the lack of progress in the investigation, just as his boss was. If something didn't turn up soon, he would be forced to put it aside and deal with more pressing cases. It made no sense that the victim had been left for dead, nothing missing from his pockets other than a cell phone. The kid obviously hadn't been carrying a lot of cash, he didn't run in the same circles as his brother, so was it just a crime of opportunity? Some sick bastard that just wanted to kill for the kicks? Owen scrubbed a hand over his face at that thought – those were the most difficult to solve. Still, his sixth sense told him it had something to do with Derek, something wasn't sitting right with the facts so far.

He looked at the photos again from the funeral, and the notes he'd made on Callie Torres. She was a local girl, currently unemployed, but she'd been involved in some petty thefts at one time as well. Similar to Gareth, nothing major, but it was obvious they shared a common thread there. If she was telling the truth about their relationship, it might have been something they were planning together that was behind this. Maybe they'd planned to rob Derek, and it went sour, ending with Derek killing Gareth? Stranger things had happened. Owen had spoken with her, of course, and she only admitted to dating Gareth, and swore she knew nothing about his criminal record.

The phone on his desk rang then, interrupting his thoughts, and he grabbed it quickly. He listened for a moment, before a smile lifted his lips. "That's the best news I've had in days. Keep the area secure, I'm on my way." Setting the phone aside, he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, calling out to his boss who was just leaving for the night. "Just got a break in the Shepherd case – they found the kid's car. I'm heading over there now."

"Good. Keep me informed, Hunt. "

"Yessir!"

Owen drove away from the station into the late night traffic, hoping there would be some kind of evidence in the vehicle to point him in the right direction. He hated being unable to figure out who did the crime, but he was certain that sooner or later, something would come to light. It always did; criminals were never as smart as they thought they were after all.

* * *

Meredith opened her eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings for a moment. The bed was distinctly larger than her own, the sheets definitely a higher thread count than hers, and there was a decidedly male body next to her. Then she remembered where she was, and that it was Derek sleeping beside her. He had his leg over hers, and one arm around her waist, while his head was buried in the pillows. She hadn't expected to stay like this, but after the enthusiastic round of passion outside Derek had carried her into the bedroom where they continued until sleep finally overtook them. Now a glance at the clock indicated it was nearly 3:00 a.m.

There was a small lamp still glowing on the nightstand, and she took the opportunity to look around at Derek's bedroom. She wondered if he brought many of his girlfriends here, but it seemed like a distinctly masculine space. She felt a little surprised at the fact he hadn't hustled her out of here.

Feeling a little restless suddenly, she eased away from him, trying not to wake him up. He seemed to be in a sound sleep, and only rolled over onto his back. She paused briefly to admire how sexy he looked, even sleeping, his hair a tousled mess. The sheets had slid low on his hips, and she appreciated the opportunity to study him. The thought of having had her hands on all of that delicious male skin and muscle sent her own body into a fever all over again.

"Get a grip, Grey, quit ogling," she muttered, padding away towards the bathroom. She closed the door softly, and stared at her reflection under the soft lights of the vanity. "You look way too satisfied with yourself..." she murmured, examining the slight bruise on her throat, and the pink tinge on her skin from the scratch of the stubble along his jaw in the myriad of places he'd kissed and licked her. No doubt about it, Derek was a very dangerous and passionate man, who was willing to make sure the woman he was with knew that as well. He had taken her to heights of pleasure she never realized she wanted, holding off with his own release until he was sure she was utterly sated. Their brief encounter at his restaurant hadn't prepared her for this. It was all a little dizzying, but she wasn't complaining. Whatever he'd demanded of her, she'd gave him willingly, and her body ached in that pleasurable way that only happened after great physical satisfaction.

She splashed some water on her face, and wrapped a towel around her before slipping back into the bedroom. For a moment, she hesitated, and then her reporter's curiosity got the best of her, and she made a quick tour around the room. Nothing was out of place, aside from the clothing scattered on the floor, but then what did she expect to find? A quick glance at the bed told her that Derek was still sleeping, and she took the opportunity to wander out into the quiet corridor.

On the main floor, she discovered a combination office/library, with shelves of leather bound books that looked quite authentic. There were a couple of large paintings on the walls, and she glanced at them curiously. She was hardly an expert, and she had no idea if they were real or not, but to her untrained eye they were gorgeous. He had mentioned he liked art, so it was quite possible they were original works since he obviously had the money to invest in them. But her attention was taken by a large desk that was bare of anything but a lamp and a crystal paperweight. "Gee, minimalist much, Derek?" she murmured, before trying the desk drawers. The first one slid open smoothly, but only contained the usual assortment of pens and notepads. Her fingers were on the handle of the next one, when she heard a sound.

"Looking for incriminating evidence, Meredith?" Derek asked, leaning one shoulder against the door frame.

"What?" She jerked her hand back quickly, then nearly smacked her toe on the edge of the desk in her haste to move. "I, uh..." she was at a loss for words, looking at him standing here, all sleep tousled, his pants pulled on but still partially undone, his arms crossed over his chest. He pushed away from the doorway, and stalked towards her, and she found herself backing away, unnerved by the look in his eyes.

"I'm disappointed, Meredith. I thought you would be too exhausted to go poking around where you don't belong," he told her softly, once he had her cornered against the bookcase. "I guess this is why I don't usually have anyone stay the night."

"I was looking for the kitchen, I needed some water..." she said weakly. "I got lost..."

"Mmhmm..." he said thoughtfully, reaching for the towel knotted between her breasts. "Then what were you looking for in my desk? Does it look like it dispenses water?" He gave the towel a slight tug and it started to come loose.

Meredith put her hands up to prevent him from exposing her completely. "No, of course not, Derek. I admit, you caught me…I was snooping. I can't help it, all right?" She lifted her chin defiantly, and glared at him as best as she could under the circumstances. It was difficult to maintain an air of indignation wearing only a towel that could be removed easily.

"Maybe you need to learn to restrain your curiosity," he told her, moving closer to her, and wrapping one hand around her neck, rubbing his thumb over her pulse point. "What if I'm really the dangerous man I'm being painted as? What if I put my hands around Gareth's neck like this…and squeezed, until he couldn't take it any longer…? You think I'm capable of it, don't you?"

Her breathing quickened, and she forced herself to be calm. "Honestly, Derek, I don't know what to think anymore. Maybe if you talk about it, I can portray you in a different light."

"I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, honey, I don't need your help," he said softly, as the pressure let up on her throat. He tried to pull the towel away from her further, but she backed away slightly. "You don't know what you're getting into if you keep digging into my past."

"You're so damn mysterious!" Meredith said heatedly. "Don't you understand, it just makes me more determined to figure you out?"

"You're thinking about this too much." Derek reached for her again, making her lose hold of the towel so that it slid away to the floor. He moved in to lower his mouth over hers, kissing her in a way to distract her, and all of her thoughts seemed to coalesce into the heat that flared between them.

"Damn you, Derek...you keep doing this..." she sighed.

"Doing what...?" he asked, easing her backwards gently. "I thought you liked when I did this...?"

"Yes, but..." Meredith surrendered under his glittering gaze, as he spread her legs wider. Then his mouth was on her inner thighs, his tongue dancing along her skin until he reached where she was open and wet. His tongue found her clit and she bucked upwards, responding to the instant pleasure that raced through her. As if she wasn't aware of just how well he could arouse her - it was like a magical thrill that she couldn't resist.

Derek continued his erotic quest, giving her one small climax after another, until she was shaking with need. Whatever else she'd had on her mind, it was completely wiped out of her thoughts. She was completely focused on how good he made her feel, his tongue moving over her clit and away, until she was mindless. "I want you inside me…" she begged, breathlessly, managing to look at him where he was bent over her.

At that, he looked up at her, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Just the place I want to be," he muttered. "Don't move…" He managed to find his focus briefly, realizing that he hadn't planned on doing this here. "I need to get…"

"It's okay…" she interrupted him, sensing his thought. "I'm on the pill, and there's nothing else to worry about."

"Good, you have nothing to worry about with me either," he assured her, pushing his pants away from his hips. His cock rose up, hard and demanding, as he moved between her legs. "Trust me?"

"You keep asking me that!" she laughed, but her body was too primed and wanting to think straight. "Yes…I trust you, Derek. I just want you to trust me too…" she moaned, as he fit himself against her. "Just do it…" Her eyes closed as he pushed into her, deep and hard, giving her a slight quiver of release from the sensation. Her legs went around his body, pulling him in tighter, just as he leaned in to kiss her. Whatever else happened, being with him just felt right somehow.

It was a fast and erotic encounter, here in the office that he had always kept to himself. Somehow he knew that she would be forever on his mind when he sat at the desk from now on. It was not something he'd imagined doing, but he focused on how good it felt to be inside of her, without the barrier of latex between them. She clenched around him, tight and wet, like a glove that fit perfectly. "God, you feel so good like this…" he murmured, lifting her upwards, so that the angle of his thrust changed. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply. The climax hit him like a freight train, taking him unaware, as he lost himself into her, something he hadn't done with any other woman. Her body responded, quivering in release, as they rocked together.

Derek lifted his head and their eyes met in a way that was part lustful satisfaction, and part amusement at just how quickly they had managed to get to this point again. He kissed her again, still reeling from the intensity of their encounter. This was spinning out of control in ways he didn't expect; they were sharing intimacies and he couldn't deny the way she got past his usual defenses. He just wasn't sure how much was personal and how much was business on her part. For the moment, he pushed his doubts aside, and eased away from her gently. "Come on, let's go back to bed. There are a few hours till morning, and we can use the sleep," he said, helping her off the edge of the desk.

Meredith smiled a little sleepily. "I thought you were going to make me leave once you found me snooping," she laughed softly, picking up the towel.

Derek shook his head. "Somehow against my better judgment I'm going to overlook that indiscretion," he admitted.

"Does this mean you're going to tell me what's going on?"

"Don't push it, honey," he warned her, propelling her towards the corridor again. "Right now I'm tired and we need to sleep."

"Can't blame me for trying," Meredith said sweetly, "...honey..."

* * *

Outside in the rain that had started to fall, Owen watched intently while the crime scene technicians secured Gareth's car to the tow truck in preparation to haul it away to the station. Since arriving on the scene at the marina parking lot, the techs had done their initial search and came up with the usual trace evidence that was common to all vehicles. They would go over it in more detail inside their building, checking for fingerprints or blood or anything that might prove useful. For now, one of them walked over to Owen and handed over a small plastic bag. "We found this wedged under the front seat, sir. Nothing else so far that looks unusual."

"Thank you. I'll make sure to log it into evidence," Owen said, looking at it curiously. He held it up under his flashlight, squinting to see what it was. In the harsh halogen light, a single black onyx cufflink glittered ominously beneath the plastic.

* * *

_Song lyrics from "Like Sugar" by Matchbox Twenty_


	10. The Thrill of the Chase

**Thanks to all for your positive reviews, and for reading/favoriting this story! And now we've made it to chapter 10 and things are heating up, in more ways than one...**

* * *

**Chapter 10  
The Thrill of the Chase  
**

After spending the night at Derek's, Meredith strolled into the office in the morning, her sunglasses in place, and coffee cup clutched firmly in hand. It had been dawn when she'd managed to slip away from his bed, feeling thoroughly sated and physically exhausted, along with slightly hungover from the combination of tequila and Shiraz. It had taken a long hot shower and an extra large cup of Starbucks strongest coffee to make her feel anywhere near ready to feign alertness.

She slipped into her chair, and turned on the computer, just as Mark joined her. "Well, good morning Meredith, how are you this morning?"

"Go away, Mark, I'm not ready to be cheerful," she muttered, taking a large gulp of coffee.

"Judging from the dark glasses, and large coffee, I'm guessing it was a late night?"

"Hmm…you could say that."

"I take it the evening went well?" Mark grinned at her as he perched one hip on the edge of her desk. "Nice bruise on your throat."

Instinctively, she put her hand up to the spot in question. "Fine, it went great."

"Don't keep me in suspense, Grey. Did you find out anything useful?"

Meredith shook her head. "I tried to look in his desk, but it was locked. And then I got, um, distracted."

"He took you to his home? I'm impressed, he must trust you."

Meredith frowned. Even if she could, she wasn't sure she wanted to expose Derek any more. While she still had some questions about his past, he had been far more relaxed with her than she expected. "Mark, I'm a little conflicted right now."

"C'mon, Grey…he's playing you! I know how it works," Mark said. "He's a player; he'll do his best to use you to make himself look good in the press. I told you not to fall for him."

"I'm not falling for him. I just have doubts about his guilt. There could be a lot of other explanations about his brother's death."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Sure. Well, you can keep an eye on him at the charity ball tonight. It's a fund raiser for the new museum, and I know he'll be there. He's on the board, as one of the main contributors."

"What? He never mentioned anything about an event…" Meredith protested.

"Maybe he already has a date."

"He can date whoever he pleases," she muttered, staring at the computer screen, trying to ignore her boss.

"So you say. I'll be _your_ date tonight, Grey," Mark smirked.

"You're so sweet, Mark. What would I do without you?"

"You'd think of something, I'm sure. After all, we broke up because you were able to do without me," he reminded her with a wink.

"No, we broke up because you didn't want to be monogamous."

"I'm not the only man that thinks that way. Shepherd isn't exactly known for being monogamous either. Just keep that in mind, Grey."

* * *

Derek looked at the calendar on his laptop, realizing that the charity fund raising dinner was that evening and he had promised to be there. The museum was raising funds to build a new wing, and as a board member he would need to put in an appearance. With everything else going on, he'd completely forgotten. Belatedly, he recalled telling Anya that he would take her as his escort and she would likely hold him to that. Especially since he still hadn't talked to her since Gareth's funeral, he realized. As far as she was concerned, they were still seeing each other.

He picked up his phone to call Anya, and then hesitated. It was unlikely that Meredith would be attending the ball, and what difference would it make if he showed up with Anya? He wasn't exclusive with Meredith, after all, and it was better that he kept up with his appearance of dating the leggy model. If his mysterious blackmailer was watching, it might deflect some interest away from Meredith. Whoever it was was being smart, nothing had showed up on the surveillance cameras at the front of the restaurant, only a nondescript young guy handing over the note to Alicia. His cell phone interrupted his chain of thought, and at first he thought it might be Meredith, but of course it wasn't. "Hello Addison," he answered quickly.

"Were you going to tell me about the life insurance policy?" she demanded.

"Damnit, I meant to call you, I forgot."

"You forgot about buying it? Or telling me about that? I just had a call from Det. Hunt and he seems very interested in the fact you are benefiting from your brother's death. I need to know these kinds of details, Derek, so I don't sound like an idiot!"

"Addi, calm down. I didn't take out any policy; it was a complete shock to me as well."

"If you didn't do it, then who did? And why?"

"It's a long story, but I think someone is trying to frame me for murder. This is just another means to that end," Derek said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything before, but I'm trying to take care of it."

"Derek! You can't be serious!"

"I wish I weren't. Look, I don't want to get into specifics now, over the phone. I promise I will tell you everything soon, in person. For now, is there any way you can dig into this policy? Find out who might have set it up? I'm sure you must have private investigators that can do that sort of thing."

For a moment, there was complete silence on the line, and Derek took the phone away from his ear to check that he was still connected before speaking again. "Addison?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute, Derek. It's not every day someone tells me something like this. I'm not a criminal lawyer, maybe you need to talk with someone who deal with stuff like this. I can recommend..."

"We'll discuss everything later, all right? Just see what you can find out about the policy first...please?"

"Fine. I have someone that has a lot of contacts in the insurance business; he should be able to dig something up for me. But promise me you won't do anything dangerous, Derek."

"I swear, I can take care of myself, Addison. Call me when you have some news."

"I will."

* * *

At the police crime lab, Owen was waiting impatiently to find out if there had been any trace evidence recovered from Gareth's car. Along with that cufflink that had been dusted for fingerprints, there had to be something to point him in the right direction.

"Detective Hunt, you aren't going to make this process any quicker by hovering over my shoulder," the technician muttered, trying to analyze the fibers under the microscope. "The prints are being run through the system, and I can only work so fast here. You're lucky we can even get to this stuff today."

"I know, I know," Hunt agreed. "I just need to get moving on this case soon, or the captain will pull me off it. Call me if you get a hit on those prints?"

"Don't worry. You know I'm good at what I do here. You think it's the brother?"

"If it is, it's almost too convenient, but there's no other suspects at this point," Owen commented. "So long as the evidence is good, I'll have no choice but to arrest him."

* * *

Derek adjusted the cuffs on his Armani tux again, wishing he hadn't decided to attend the charity ball. He hadn't given much thought to the fact he would be under scrutiny by everyone there, thanks to the media coverage of Gareth's death. Beside him, Anya glanced at him in concern.

"You're fidgeting, Derek. You never fidget," she commented. "Let them stare, what do you care?"

"I'd rather not be the object of gossip," he muttered, glancing at his watch. "How much longer before we can leave?"

"Derek, for god's sake, we've only just got here," she pouted. "I didn't buy this hideously expensive gown for a five minute appearance! Don't be a bear, let's stay and have a good time."

Derek looked at her over the rim of his glass of Scotch. "You look lovely, Anya, it's not that." He couldn't fault her appearance in the long ice blue sheath that fit her like a glove, cut low to bare a large amount of cleavage, and cut high on the skirt to expose her long legs. Her dark hair was styled perfectly, and she looked stunning.

She slipped her hand under his arm and gave him a dazzling smile. "Darling, I know I look amazing. And I know you're not yourself because of Gareth, but you need to have some fun."

"Anya, remember at the funeral I told you we needed to talk?" he reminded her. He was suddenly wondering what he'd seen in her, besides the perfect looks.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Are you breaking up with me at a party, Derek?"

"It isn't..." he started to say, when there was a pause in the music playing and he glanced towards the door where several people were still coming in. "Damnit..." he muttered, realizing the evening just took a turn for the worse.

"What is it?" Anya looked over at the cluster of people chatting together across the ballroom. "Is there something wrong?"

"I just saw someone I wasn't expecting," he said, his voice cool as he stared at Meredith who had just arrived in the company of a tall, well built man. She was wearing a slinky green dress that made his libido jump into overdrive and he suddenly wondered if she was naked under it. At the same time, he felt a sharp twist of jealousy that took him by surprise, thinking about Meredith with someone else. They seemed to be well acquainted as they made their way through the crowd, and she was laughing at something the other man said.

"Who is she? Are you dating her now?" Anya asked quietly, observing Derek's reaction.

"She's a reporter, that's all," Derek said curtly.

"Ohhh…the one who wrote the articles in the Seattle Enquirer?"

"One and the same."

"She's cute, I suppose. Not really your usual type of woman though, honey," Anya purred, sizing up Meredith's attributes in one glance. "Now what was it you were about to tell me?"

Derek shook his head. "This isn't the time, Anya. Let's just have a few drinks and get through this evening first."

"Whatever you say, darling."

Meredith scanned the party guests, as she and Mark made their way towards the bar. She couldn't spot Derek and wondered if he had decided to skip the event. He hadn't called her during the day, and she felt a little disappointed, but she was determined not to let it bother her. It wasn't like they were dating, after all. He'd made it quite clear, his relationships were physical, nothing else.

Mark leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Are we having fun yet?"

She laughed a little. "We just got here, Mark. Get me a drink and we can work on the fun part." Then she caught a glimpse of Derek and she sucked in a breath. "There he is, with that woman from the funeral."

"Where?"

"Over there, by that large painting."

Mark whistled softly. "Looks expensive."

"What? The painting?"

"I mean, it looks like his date has expensive taste, very high maintenance," Mark grinned. "Like all of Shepherd's women, as I recall. Way out of my league, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to try!"

"They look well matched," Meredith said, "and he has enough money to keep her happy, I suppose." She tried not to think about him in bed with someone else, not after spending the night with him. He'd seemed so different when they were alone together, and here he looked like the aloof and arrogant alpha male again.

"Well, let's keep circulating and take some notes. We're here on business, remember?"

"Yes, boss," Meredith smirked.

"And we're not bidding on anything in that silent auction either."

"Oh c'mon, you know you want to!"

They managed to catch the attention of the bartender, and get two glasses of champagne. Meredith was still smirking about Mark buying some of the artwork, when she turned around and found herself face to face with Derek and his date. "Oh, well good evening, Mr. Shepherd," she managed to say smoothly.

"Ms Grey, I had no idea you attended charity events," he commented, just as smooth, even if his eyes were stormy.

"Work related, you know…"

"Are you always working?" Derek raised his eyebrow at her, the hidden meaning of his comment not lost on her.

"Not always."

Mark stepped closer to her, and slid his arm around her waist. "Everything all right?" he asked, giving her a mischievous smile.

"Just great," Meredith said, rolling her eyes.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Mark, this is Derek Shepherd. Derek, this is Mark Sloan…"

The two men shook hands, each of them assessing the other. "You're the notorious man of the evening," Mark smirked.

"Obviously my reputation precedes me," Derek replied coolly. "You have me at a disadvantage." He turned towards the woman next to him. "Anya, this is Meredith Grey, that reporter from the paper. Meredith, this is Anya Stewart."

Now it was Meredith's turn to share an assessing look with Anya, shaking hands with the other woman. "Charmed to meet you," she said brightly.

"Likewise, Ms Grey," Anya said. "I've read the articles you wrote about Derek. You're wrong, you know."

"Just reporting the story, Ms Stewart."

Mark stuck his hand out to Anya. "Nice to meet you. I've seen the photos of you, the ones in Vogue, right? For that perfume campaign, wasn't it?"

"Yes, you're right," Anya beamed. "How sweet of you to remember!"

"I always remember gorgeous women," Mark assured her with a wink.

Meredith bit back a giggle. Mark was certainly turning on his charm. "All right, we should move along. It was nice to see you both."

Derek nodded. "I'll try to behave myself tonight so you don't have anything salacious to write about tomorrow."

"Oh, Mr. Shepherd, what fun would that be?" Meredith asked sweetly, before pulling Mark away with her.

Derek watched Meredith walk away, the gentle sway of her hips in the green dress making him remember just how sweet she had been in bed. As if it hadn't happened, she was acting cool and professional and yet he couldn't blame her. He realized he had been just as remote. Still, he had an almost uncontrollable urge to punch Sloan in the face for being close to her.

"Derek, you're looking positively jealous," Anya murmured, linking her arm through his. "Considering you said you aren't dating her, you act like are."

"Anya…"

"It's all right, Derek. I know how you operate, after all. We had a lot of fun while it lasted, but I know you don't feel that possessive about me, darling."

"I'm not…"

"You are, Derek. And I can't wait to see the fallout," she laughed softly. "Forgive me if I'm enjoying this." Her own eyes were on Mark, admiring the way his suit fit him.

"I think you're enjoying this a little _too_ much."

"It's just amusing. You're always the one in control and I think you're out of your element with the sweet little reporter. Maybe you should just leave her alone, you're far better off with me. I know how the game works. You'll only end up breaking her poor little heart, and then just imagine what kind of nasty things she'll put in the paper about you."

Derek's jaw clenched, and he pulled her towards a quiet corner. "Anya, I wasn't going to go into this with you tonight, but this isn't working between us anymore. You can leave here tonight any time you want, just not with me. I'm sorry to be blunt, but as you say you know how the game works."

"So I'm out, she's in...how fortunate for her," Anya smirked. "Maybe I should warn her about what she's getting into."

"If you know what's good for you, you won't do that," he said softly.

* * *

Awhile later, Meredith made her way to the ladies room, leaving Mark to his own devices for a few minutes. After drying her hands, she moved towards the mirror that was in the alcove, away from the more harsh lights at the sinks. She took her lipstick out of the small clutch purse and reapplied a fresh coat. Then she was aware of someone else joining her, and she looked into Anya's glamorous face. It wasn't often that Meredith let herself feel insecure, but the tall perfectly turned out woman next to her was someone she couldn't compete with.

Anya checked her hair, which was still in just the right amount of disarray. "So you really think Derek's guilty?" she asked, meeting Meredith's eyes in the mirror.

"Just writing the story."

Anya's perfectly groomed eyebrows arched. "Seriously? Judging from the way he was staring daggers at your date, I'd say it's more than a story."

Meredith laughed softly. "What makes you think Derek would care who I'm here with?"

"If you've spent time with Derek in any way, you know he's intense and dangerous." Anya applied lipstick slowly. "Believe me, I've known him for awhile now. He may be interested in you now because you're someone fresh and different, but it won't last. He goes through women like Kleenex. Once he's satisfied his desires, he moves on."

"Really?"

"Oh, he might express that jealous streak, but it's only because he doesn't like to share," Anya smirked. "He wants his women to be his alone, for the moment, anyway."

"I see."

"You're really not his type, anyway. He's likely just keeping you close to make sure you don't write anything else incriminating about him."

"I'll keep that in mind," Meredith said, as she started to back away. She'd had enough of this conversation. "Thanks for sharing."

"Look, Ms Grey, I'm sure you're a lovely person, and I'm just warning you for your own sake. He'll break your little heart if you let him," Anya smiled sweetly at Meredith, as if imparting true female-bonding advice.

"Well, Ms Stewart, I appreciate that, but I can take care of myself. And if Derek _is_ sleeping with me, then that's your loss, isn't it? Because you know just how much pleasure he takes in making the woman he's with feel good, don't you?" Meredith asked, her voice just as syrupy sweet. "Enjoy the rest of the evening."

* * *

Derek had been circulating among the crowd, his eyes searching almost unconsciously for Meredith. Close to the bar, he nearly bumped into someone and he started to apologize when he realized it was the man who had arrived with her. "Sloan, right?" he observed coolly. "Lose your date already?"

Mark chuckled, before taking a sip of the Scotch in his glass. "No, she'll be back. Just gone to powder her nose, you know how it is."

"Enjoying the evening?"

Shrugging slightly, Mark let his gaze drift around the ballroom before looking at Derek again. "Not really my kind of thing; I'm just here to keep Meredith happy. My idea of a good evening is to stay in, have a little wine, and spend time in more physical endeavors..." he grinned suggestively, as if goading Derek.

Once again, Derek was seized with an irresistible urge to punch Sloan square in the jaw at the mental image of Meredith in bed with him. "I didn't realize you were a paid escort," he said instead, raising one eyebrow at Sloan. "I'm sure you must do well."

Mark laughed, noting the dangerous expression that was in Derek's eyes. "I've never needed to offer my services that way, Shepherd! I've known Meredith for a few years now, we're just friends." Still his tone of voice indicated there was more to their relationship than that.

"Sloan, I've just met you and I find it impossible to like you," Derek said quietly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need another drink." He stalked away, just before Meredith hurried up to Mark.

She looked at Derek's retreating back, and glared at Mark. "What did you say to him?"

"Just guy talk," Mark smirked. "I think he'd like to drag you away by the hair somewhere, though."

"Oh god, not you too."

"Me too what?"

"I just had a conversation with Anya. She's seriously bitchy, and basically warned me to keep away from Derek."

"Interesting. Because their body language together doesn't make me think he's involved with her anymore."

"I don't care."

"You say that now," he teased her, grabbing her hand. "C'mon, let's have one dance and let loose a little before we leave. I think it might push some of Shepherd's buttons."

"You're an ass..." Meredith protested as he led the way onto the dance floor. "And I really can't dance..."

"Then just let me lead," he murmured, as the music started again, and she realized with a start it was something slow and seductive, with sax and other horns setting the tone.

"Wait, Mark, no..." But before she could protest any further, he had her in his arms and moving across the floor with ease that took her by surprise. As they swept past Derek, she caught his eyes on them, and the slow burning look he gave her made her stumble against Mark. Then Derek cut through the crowd, and tapped Mark on the shoulder, and they stopped in mid step.

"I'm cutting in, Sloan."

"Are you okay with that, Meredith?" Mark asked.

Meredith nodded and found herself caught up in Derek's arms, so tightly she could feel the heat of his body against her. She felt like everyone in the place was staring at them, but she looked up into Derek's blue eyes and it all fell away. The moves he led her through were charged with sensual tension, each sway of her hips against him, each retreat and advance made her inhibitions fade away. Derek's eyes were hot on her, as he maneuvered her towards the edge of the dance floor. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight, Meredith. Anya was already…"

"It doesn't matter about her, we had a nice little girl talk in the bathroom," Meredith told him. "She seems to think you're going to drop me after you have your fun. But I think I can deal with that since you've already told me how your affairs are managed. Just sex, no attachment."

"What about Sloan? He seems very familiar with you," Derek said quietly, as he guided her towards the exit. "Is he involved with you?"

"Mark? Seriously, Derek, you can't be jealous! Oh wait, Anya did say you didn't like to share while you were in the thrill of the chase, so to speak," Meredith said. By that time, they had reached the foyer of the hotel, and he pulled her in behind a group of large potted palms. "What are you doing?"

"Just this," he muttered, pulling her against him. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips as his hands tangled in her hair. His heart was racing unevenly, from the heat of the moment and the anger he'd felt at seeing her with Sloan. He felt wildly out of control as he kissed her mouth, like he was drowning in his need for her. It was deep and hot and fierce, and she kissed him back with the same ferocity. For a few moments, everything else faded away, as the kiss grew deeper and even more scorching. He finally lifted his head, breathing heavily. "It's not the thrill of the chase, Meredith. There's something I can't explain, when I'm with you it's different. I don't want to think of someone else with you, so if that means I'm jealous…" He shrugged lightly, as if suddenly unsure of himself. "Let's go somewhere more private so we can finish this conversation, all right?"

Meredith nodded, as he took her hand to lead her outside. The doorman was quick to wave at the sleek black limo idling in the curved drive, and as soon as Derek approached, the driver jumped out to whip the door open for them. She looked at Derek in confusion. "What, do you have him just wait for you?"

"I called him to make sure he'd be here. I like to make a quick exit," he replied smoothly. But before he could hand her inside, flashing red and blue lights arced across the drive, and an unmarked police car pulled up alongside them. Derek tightened his grip on Meredith's arm as they turned to see Det. Hunt jump out of the car and come up to them. "What's going on, Hunt?"

The detective's expression was serious, as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Mr. Shepherd, please turn around and place your hands behind your back."

"What? You can't be serious…" Derek protested, as chill descended into the pit of his stomach. Beside him, Meredith stiffened and he heard her quick intake of breath.

"I'm sorry, but we have evidence that places you at the scene of Gareth's murder. You're under arrest for his murder." Hunt slid the handcuffs in place, and intoned the legal rights Derek was entitled to. Derek said nothing else then, realizing that whatever he tried to say would only make things worse.

"Are you sure about this? Seriously?" Meredith demanded. Derek glanced at her, somewhat surprised at her outburst.

"It's all right, Meredith. It's all a mistake, I'm sure they have nothing. My lawyer will have me released in no time," he told her quietly, trying to reassure himself as well. After all the years of avoiding this very problem, it felt surreal to be in this situation.

"The evidence doesn't lie, Miss Grey," Hunt said shortly. "You should be thrilled; you have the inside scoop on the arrest."

By that time, several people had gathered to see what was going on. As Hunt led Derek towards the waiting squad car that had arrived, she couldn't believe this was happening. Hunt was wrong about one thing; at the moment she was far from thrilled.


	11. Don't Let Go

**Thank you all for the reviews as always. Your continued enthusiasm for this story always makes me happy! **

**It's been a hellishly busy week at work, making my mind a mush by the end of the day so I'm surprised I even have a chapter to post for you today. As for this one, I'm not going to dwell lots on the arrest aspects, since this isn't a police drama after all. I know you're more interested in MerDer (murder, ha), and their relationship, so I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Will they be sharing with secrets with each other yet, or continue the 'art of deception'...?**

* * *

**Chapter 11  
Don't Let Go  
**

_ You get my senses running wild_  
_I can 't resist your sweet, sweet smile_  
_So take this feeling 'n make it grow_  
_Never let it - never let it go_

_Song lyrics from "Don't Let Go" by Sarah McLachlan w/ Bryan Adams._

Meredith was rooted to the spot, watching the flashing lights disappear into traffic. "What the hell just happened?" she murmured, taken aback by sight of Derek taken away in handcuffs. Behind her, a small crowd had gathered, and she was aware of someone standing beside her.

"Well, I can see I should have come earlier."

She looked at the man who had spoken. He was tall and distinguished looking, wearing a dark suit and tie. "What are you talking about?"

"I meant to speak with Derek tonight, but I was unavoidably detained."

"Are you a friend of his?"

"Yes, one of his oldest friends. Allow me to introduce myself. Richard Webber," he said, holding out his hand.

"Meredith Grey."

"Ah, yes, Derek's mentioned you," Richard said, his eyes knowing.

"Oh really? He hasn't mentioned you," Meredith countered. "They've arrested him for his brother's murder. Do you think he's capable of that?"

"Knowing him and Gareth as long as I have, I would say no. The two of them were never close, but Derek has always been level-headed. Killing someone is just not in his nature."

Meredith took a steadying breath. "I just don't know what to say right now. Hunt just swooped in here and carted Derek away so fast."

Richard offered her his arm. "Come inside and have a drink, you look like you need one right now. I assure you that Derek is able to take care of himself, and he will have his lawyer on the case immediately."

"A drink might be a good idea," she agreed, letting him clear a path through the still chattering group. By the time they reached the main ballroom, she could tell that the news had traveled quickly. Mark spotted her, and quickly joined them at the bar, glancing at Richard curiously. Meredith made the introductions, accepting the glass of champagne Richard handed her.

"I just heard what happened, you look white as a ghost," Mark said. "It must have been a shock."

"You have no idea. Hunt's convinced he has the evidence to arrest Derek. I can't believe it."

"You know you need to write this piece, Grey. You were right there, and you've covered everything about it so far, don't back away now."

"Mark..."

"It's your job, Grey; don't lose sight of that fact."

"Of course, it just seems wrong." Meredith could still see the haunted look in Derek's eyes, and it felt like a betrayal to tell the world what just happened. Especially after he'd kissed her and seemed to be on the brink of telling her how he felt about her.

"Ms Grey, I'm sure you can do the right thing here," Richard spoke up. "Perhaps it's a better thing for you to write the article given your relationship to Derek. Someone else might do a far more damaging report than you."

"Exactly!" Mark agreed, checking his watch. "And if you hurry, you can get it done in time for the morning edition. Too bad we don't have photos. Why didn't you think of pulling out your phone...?"

Meredith gulped the last of her drink before thrusting the glass into Mark's hand. "Insensitive ass!" she snapped before looking at Richard. "It was nice to meet you, and I'm sorry we didn't have time to talk longer, but my boss here is a slave driver."

"I understand, and I hope we can meet again under better circumstances."

Before Meredith could make her escape, Anya came up beside Mark and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "Are we ready to leave now?"

"Seriously, Mark?" Meredith felt her eyes rolling so back in her sockets she was sure there would be permanent damage.

"Hey, she needs a ride home, and I offered my services," Mark said with a wink. "And you have work to do..."

"Well, don't let me stop you then."

* * *

Derek looked up as the door to the interrogation room swung open. Hunt stepped into the room, carrying a sheaf of papers and a coffee cup. Setting these down, he took a chair opposite Derek and shuffled the papers for a moment. Derek sat back in his own chair, crossed his arms over his chest and plastered on his best expression of bored arrogance despite feeling disheveled and tired. He was not going to say a word, no matter how long Hunt dragged out the silence. Finally Hunt sighed, and slapped the papers back into a pile.

"You must be curious why I brought you in here. We found Gareth's car, abandoned in a parking lot at the marina. In the course of our search, we found physical evidence that places you there."

"It was my brother's car, what do you expect?"

"True, but I don't imagine you spent much time in it, considering it was an old Toyota Corolla. Not exactly your kind of luxury vehicle."

Derek frowned, trying to remember if he ever had spent time in Gareth's car lately. He had to admit, he couldn't recall anything, but he made sure not to betray his thoughts. He shrugged negligently. "I'm sure you think the worst of me, Hunt. I don't blame you, the evidence is starting to look grim. But I didn't kill my brother."

"And of course, he didn't borrow your cufflinks?"

"What?" Hunt tossed a plastic bag across the table, and Derek groaned inwardly, recognizing his missing cufflink. "Where did you find that?"

"Under the driver's seat, I assume it's yours? We've got the fingerprint report, so don't lie."

Before Derek could say another word, the door opened, and he looked up into Addison's green eyes. Beside her stood another man, with short cropped hair, and a confident set to his shoulders. "Don't say another word. Hunt, you know better than to question Mr. Shepherd without his lawyer present." The other man set his briefcase down and glared at Hunt.

"Karev," Hunt glared back. "I should have known you would be showing up."

"Derek, I had to call in someone else," Addison spoke up. "Alex is our best criminal attorney, he's got more experience in this sort of thing than I do."

"And as your attorney, I'm telling you to keep quiet," Alex said. "Hunt, your evidence is flimsy at best, laughable at worst. You really can't expect to hold my client with this." He looked dismissively at the arrest papers, and the cufflink still on the table. "I need to review everything in detail, and until such time..."

"I can expect to keep him here for questioning. You can't deny me that."

Alex pulled up a chair to the table and grinned at Hunt. "Are you charging him? I trust you read him his rights."

"We haven't formally booked him," Hunt admitted. "But if he's innocent, then he can tell me why his cufflink was in his brother's car."

"I need some time to confer with Mr. Shepherd, alone."

"Fine." Hunt stood up. "I'll be back in ten minutes. Are you staying?" He looked at Addison, who nodded.

"I'm his business attorney," she explained.

Once the door closed, Alex took out his pen and legal pad of paper. "Now, tell me everything," he said, looking at Derek. "Addi tells me you think someone is trying to frame you for this. I don't know about that, but I want all the information you can give me so that there aren't any surprises down the road. Is that clear?"

"Very clear," Derek agreed, wondering just how much he was going to be able to tell Alex. Or what would get him in the least trouble...

* * *

Meredith rubbed the back of her neck tiredly, and closed her eyes. She had just finished writing the article about Derek's arrest and sent it off to the copy editor. Mark had phoned to make sure the edition was held for her story. He was almost too gleeful about getting the scoop on the arrest. She was surprised he was even thinking about anything besides taking Anya home.

But it was done, and she'd tried to put a more positive spin on it, but really what could she say? People had seen Derek unceremoniously led away, after all. She wondered how he was doing, and when she would hear from him again.

For now, she pushed away from her desk, and left the nearly deserted office. All she wanted was to get home, kick off her shoes and take a nice long bath. It had been a hellishly long day, from the high point of being with Derek in the early morning to now. She waved at a couple of other staff still at their desks, before taking the elevator down to the main level. The guard at the front desk unlocked the front door for her.

"Good night, Ms Grey. You okay to get to your car okay?"

"Fine, Stefan. It's close to the door. You can watch me if it makes you feel better."

"If you say so."

"I have my keys in my hand."

She stepped outside, where a persistent drizzle had started. "Damn rain," she muttered, just about to unlock her car when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards, away from the lights. Her heart kicked into overdrive and she struggled to free herself, just as a strong hand was clapped over her mouth. All of her self-defense lessons seemed to desert her as sudden panic took over.

"Just keep quiet, all right? I'm not going to hurt you, just listen…" The voice that hissed in her ear was pitched low and she couldn't tell for sure if it was a male or female. The only clear thing was that the person was tall and strong.

Meredith nodded, wondering if Stefan was still at the door.

"Good. I thought you were a smart woman, but you were acting a little foolish tonight, dancing with Derek like that. People might get the wrong idea; you know how gossip spreads. Now he's been arrested, and I can give you some exclusive details about his past for that paper of yours; all you have to do is keep quiet about this little meeting."

For a second, the hand was removed from her mouth. "I don't understand," she murmured. She realized that whoever this was had been watching them at the ball, and that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Just listen, he has something that I want. I've asked him nicely to hand it over, but he seems to be rather stubborn about that. Maybe a night in jail will make him hand it over, but more exposure in the paper will add to his misery."

"You left that photo in my mailbox, didn't you?"

"Very good, Ms Grey."

"Why are you so intent on destroying him?"

"That's a story for another day. Do we have a deal for now?"

"What if I say no?" Meredith hedged, and then winced at the grip that tightened on her arm.

"Then you'll be sorry." The voice in her ear hissed. "You don't want to be sorry. Bad things happen when people say no to me. Don't disappoint me, Ms Grey, tell me we have a deal."

The knot of fear in her stomach intensified, and she managed to nod quickly.

"Good."

The hands keeping her upright released her quickly, and she pitched forward, clutching at the side of the car for balance. She managed to gather herself sufficiently to get inside the car. Her hands were shaking, and she looked over to the front of the office building. Stefan was a few feet away from the door now, cell phone to his ear, having missed the whole exchange.

By the time Meredith pulled into her driveway, she had calmed down somewhat but she still felt a little shaky. Before she got out of the car, she grabbed her cellphone and called Cristina. "Hey, it's me."

"Mer, what's up? You sound a little weird."

"You have no idea. I just need to keep talking to you while I go inside my house."

"What?"

As Meredith walked, she gave her friend the outline of what happened. "It's crazy, I don't know what to think," she said, keeping an eye on the bushes warily. "Derek's involved in something really big."

"So talk to him, find out what his side of this is."

"That makes sense I guess."

"Or run like crazy in the opposite direction and tell the cops."

"That isn't helpful. And I'm going to give Mark a piece of my mind tomorrow. If he hadn't been consumed with lust over Anya, he would've been at the office," Meredith ranted, stepping into her house. "So much for protecting me!"

"You lost me, Mer."

"Oh, he was hustling Derek's ex-girlfriend tonight. They're probably in post-coital bliss somewhere right about now."

"Seriously? Here I thought he was consumed with lust for me," Cristina laughed. "At least he's always coming on to me every time he sees me at Joe's."

"Trust me; you're better off without him," Meredith replied. She flipped on the lights, and everything looked serene and quiet, just as she'd left it earlier. "Okay, I'm inside and there's no one lurking around. I think I'm safe."

"You sure? I can come over and bring the tequila."

"I'm fine, really. I just want a nice hot bath and then sleep. I can figure out this thing with Derek in the morning."

"Okay. Just be careful."

"I will."

Meredith ended the call and turned around to lock the front door, when it eased open slowly. She nearly screamed, finding herself face to face with Derek who looked at her in concern.

"Meredith, what's wrong? You look absolutely terrified," he said gently. "Did I surprise you that much? I meant to knock, but the door was ajar..."

"No, no...what are you doing here? I thought you were locked up?" she demanded, trying to regain her thoughts.

"My lawyer worked his magic, and managed to have me released. I wasn't formally charged yet, thank god," Derek explained, running a hand through his hair. He looked rumpled and exhausted, hardly his usual urbane self. His tie was gone, his shirt was open at the throat, and he had smudges of dirt on his previously immaculate tux. "Can I come in?"

"Oh god, yes..." Meredith stepped back so that he was able to join her, closing the door behind him. "I just got home, I had to write the piece about the arrest. I'm sorry, I tried to get out of it, I mean, I'm sure you'll hate me for it...but Mark insisted...and then he and Anya..."

"Shhh..." Derek pulled her against him, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of her foyer. There was intent in the way he moved against her, toying with the strands of her hair. "I don't care about the article, or what Sloan said or did. He's welcome to Anya if he thinks he can handle her demands. Are you going to tell me what scared you?" he asked, lowering his head to press his lips along her collarbone. "I can feel your pulse still going like mad…"

Meredith closed her eyes, her thoughts scattered. If her pulse was jumping at the moment, it had nothing to do with the mysterious assailant. It had more to do with Derek's arm around her, his mouth on her skin, and the scent of him wrapping around her. She hated to admit it, but she felt safe with him. She tipped her head back, and his mouth moved lower, along the edge of her dress where it dipped low to hug the curve of her breasts. "Let's not talk right now, okay?" she whispered. It was easier to just float on the way she felt at the moment, and forget about everything else.

"If you're sure," he replied, pressing her back against the wall.

"Very sure." Meredith wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. She could feel every muscular inch of him against her, intimate and arousing. His mouth covered hers then, and his tongue assaulted hers, demanding response, needing a response. A response she gave willingly; there was something so edgy and dangerous about being with him, she couldn't deny how much she wanted him.

When he lifted his head, she took his hand. "Come on, it's been a long day and I'm not doing this here. I don't know about you, but I need a bath, and a drink, maybe not in that order."

"Whatever you have in mind sounds good to me."

Meredith smiled at him, leading the way towards her bedroom. They were barely inside the room, when he lifted her up and carried her towards the bed. Setting her down, his hands moved up beneath her skirt, sending delicious shivers along her spine. He stroked her expertly, just as he slipped his mouth over one erect nipple, bared as her dress slipped away from her chest. Her whole body clenched in pleasure, as all rational thought fled. All she wanted was this man, inside of her, giving her all the pleasure she craved. By then, his fingers had found the edge of the wispy silk thong she wore, and teased it away from her so that he brushed her wet cleft with familiar strokes. All she could do was gasp and arch her back, hungering for more.

She whimpered as he slid his finger then along the inside of her thighs, and up into her wet waiting warmth. Her breath was taken away for a moment and she spread her legs wider to let him find more of what he was searching for. His head lowered, and his teeth grazed the skin of her thigh, before sliding his tongue deep into her, fingers still at her clit, making her writhe and pant. The pleasure rushed through her, and she lost herself in the climax that was taking her over. "Oh God, Derek…. now….now… oh god, now….." she urged, bucking into him.

Derek let her go slowly, giving her a seductive smile. "Now? I thought you said something about a bath..." he teased, but obliged her by undoing his pants. Within moments he was pressing the tip of his cock against her softness, rubbing along her, sending more jolts of heat through her. Unable to hold back, he pushed into her, and she pulled him in eagerly. They moved together in rhythm, faster and deeper, skin to skin, while he kissed her. She swore he was nearly growling with satisfaction, and she felt like purring in response as the orgasm slammed through them.

For a few moments, they lay tangled together, breathing heavily. "We didn't get too far, did we?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I can move," he mumbled against her throat. "I really just planned on coming here to talk to you, finish our conversation..."

"I'm glad you're here." Meredith sat up slowly, surveying the tangle of half removed clothing. "I still say, bath first, talk later...okay?" She didn't feel like giving up the feeling of contentment just yet. "Stay there, let me get things organized." She slipped away, stepping out of her dress as she walked towards the bathroom. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she found his presence in her bed strangely comforting. Amidst the pillows and rumpled bedding, he looked content to watch her as she moved around the room to gather her robe and some candles to take to the tub.

She hummed softly to herself, as she started the water running, adding some lavender and vanilla scented bubble bath. It wasn't long before the air was scented and damp, and she had a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the counter. She turned to call Derek, and found herself face to face with him, his clothes now stripped off. "Oh, hey..." she laughed softly, as he pulled her robe open and slid his arms around her.

She shifted against him, feeling the hot throb of his cock against her leg, and she moaned softly. The sound was low and wanting, and he got caught up in her wanting. His arm slid around her hips, lifting her to him, as he pressed close to her, feeling the wet warmth of her waiting for him. "We better get into that tub now, or it'll get cold," he whispered against her ear. "I'd hate to waste it after you've created such a calming atmosphere."

"I'm afraid the wine isn't exactly the vintage you're used to."

"Honey, I haven't always been the suave charming restaurant owner," he said, raising his eyebrow. "Whatever you have is fine."

Meredith wondered briefly if he was going to say anything else about his past, but he took her hand and helped her into the frothy tub. She watched as he poured them each a glass of wine, and then settled in behind her. With a small sigh, she relaxed against him, and took a welcome swallow of wine. "Oh, this is much better…"

Derek slid his arm around her, stroking her lightly under the water as he took a few swallows of his own drink. It felt miles removed from being at the police station, and he was thankful she hadn't turned him away. He leaned in closer, and kissed the lobe of her ear. "Now, we never did finish that conversation we started before everything went to hell," he whispered.

"Oh, the one about jealousy?"

"Yes, and how everything with you is different. I can't explain it, but I hope we have the time to explore what it means. You make me feel things I don't normally let myself feel, and I don't want to let you go. And believe me, I have never said anything like this to another woman. It feels like everything in my life is shifting, and I need to find my focus again."

"And you think I can help you find that focus?" Meredith tipped her head back to look up at him. "Then you have to be able to confide in me."

"There is so much I can't tell you right now, Meredith," he sighed, as his hand continued to stroke her skin. "Can you tell me what you were so scared about before?"

Meredith hesitated, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear before answering. "There's someone very interested in you, and is willing to give me some details about your past in order to get what he or she wants. I was going to my car in the parking lot at work, and someone grabbed me, told me you have something of theirs and that you need to be pushed to give it back."

She felt Derek go very still, and she turned her head to look at him. "What? Are you hurt? Damnit, you shouldn't be part of this," he said hotly.

"I'm already part of this, whether you want it or not," she pointed out. "I found a picture in my mailbox of us taken at Gareth's funeral, and whoever this person is saw us at the ball tonight. What's going on, Derek?"

He inhaled sharply, before running his free hand through his hair, dampening the already messy curls. For the second time that night, he had to decide how many of his secrets to share...


	12. Thief of Shadows

**Thank you again for the reviews! For those of you that review as guests, I can't thank you personally, but I appreciate the time you take to leave your thoughts here. Also I was remiss last chapter in thanking the guest who commented on Ch10, saying it reminded you of the golden age of Hollywood - I appreciate that comparison! I do watch some of those old movies now and then, so maybe it's rubbed off unconsciously.**

**Now here we are again, new chapter, even though I'm a little late and it's a little shorter than some of the last few. Real life has such a way of interfering with the writing process. But we have Derek's revelations to Meredith, and some glimpse of the villians (so to speak), so I hope you enjoy it enough.**

* * *

**Chapter 12  
Thief of Shadows  
**

"What's going on, Derek?" Meredith asked again, and he stalled for time by taking another swallow of wine. He glanced around the small bathroom, intimate and cozy with the candles flickering, where Meredith had made it a place of warmth. For him. No one had really done anything like this for him before, and it touched him. Not to mention, she had become very special to him in the short time they'd spent together. She deserved to know at least something of what was going on, if not everything.

After a few moments, he put the glass down, and pulled her back against him, enjoying the feel of her warm body next to him. "There are a lot of things going on, Meredith, to be honest. I'm not even sure I know where to start."

"Start at the beginning…"

"You may not like how the story goes. I've had my share of trouble but I managed to make something more out of my life."

"Derek, none of us is perfect. I'm not going to judge what you've done. I just want to help you deal with whatever is happening. I don't want to keep secrets if we're going to have this kind of relationship."

"This kind?"

"Emotionally involved, intimate late night bubble baths with wine and candles…" Meredith waved her hand to indicate where they were. "Or am I wrong about that?"

"No, you're not wrong." Derek dropped a quick kiss on her temple. "I feel like we have a definite connection in ways I never anticipated when we first met."

"So talk to me."

"Do you remember reading or even maybe reporting on art theft during your career?"

"My area has normally been gossip or lighter stuff, until your story. But I know there have been a few unsolved cases around the city, and even the country. Why?"

"Have you heard about unsolves cases done by someone the police called The Shadow Thief?"

Meredith was quiet for a moment. "I think so. There was one in New York, and maybe even a few around here. No one has any idea who it was, and the artwork wasn't recovered, as I recall."

"Very good."

"What, are we having a lesson on this?" Meredith asked, smiling a little.

"I'm going to tell you something now, and I want you to listen and don't ask any questions until I'm finished, all right?"

"Of course, Derek. I asked you to tell me."

"Good, because I'm a little nervous about telling you this. You see, I am, or rather was…the Shadow Thief." He felt Meredith tense against him, but he gave her credit for not saying a word. "It started when I was younger, and trying to make money to help my mother. I found I had a talent for theft, and the man who ran the art gallery where my mother worked ended up being my mentor. It wasn't long before I was able to tell the difference between a forgery and the real thing, how to break into a place and disarm the alarm system quickly, take what I wanted, and rearm the system when I left. I slipped in and out like a shadow.

"Gareth was also involved, but to a lesser extent. While I always knew I wanted more out of life, and kept a low profile, Gareth spent money like water, and wasn't as careful. Which is why he has a criminal record, and I don't. I used aliases and kept my face covered if I was dealing with someone. My mentor was responsible for selling items for the most part, and finding some of the location that had the items to steal. As I got older, I branched on my own. For the record, I wouldn't steal from someone who couldn't afford to lose the items, or if it had sentimental value. I didn't destroy any property; I was only after the artwork.

"When I finally had enough money to buy the restaurant and start a new life, I was determined never to get involved with crime again. I did my best to give back to the community, fund some charitable projects, help the museum when I could; but really my main goal was to make my mother comfortable while she was alive, and then to live my dream of running Ravish. I can't say I was entirely altruistic, money was a big part of what motivated me.

"Gareth, unfortunately, always needed cash, and he came up with a scheme to end schemes according to him. Before he died, he got involved in a deal to steal an extremely valuable painting, and he swore it would pay off enough to pay off all his debts and he could go away somewhere and keep out of trouble. I didn't want any part of that, and I told him so. He went ahead with it, and he was killed over it. I regret not going along with him, maybe I could have saved him." Derek paused to take another swallow of wine, and Meredith looked up at him.

"Or maybe you would have been killed along with him."

"I always knew how to take care of myself. I had my share of fights growing up, with the scars to prove it."

"Ah, that explains the one on your stomach…"

"Yes," Derek grimaced. "I always looked after him when he was younger, and we drifted apart over the years. I should have been there for him."

"You couldn't know it would turn out like that. Do you have the painting now? So is that what the photos are about?"

"Along with the notes left for me, and the fact my cufflinks were stolen, yes. Whoever is behind this seems to have a way to get at me. I have the painting, but I'm hoping to return it to the owner, rather than give it to the killer."

"Why would someone kill Gareth over it? And try to frame you? It doesn't make sense."

"I suppose I've made my share of enemies over the years, but no one but a few trusted friends knows my real name. Someone is trying to make this personal, and I really have no idea why."

"And now I know your secrets," Meredith said quietly, turning to look at him finally. She ran her fingers over the tattoo on his chest, and then lower into the water to trace the line of his scar. He searched her eyes for any kind of disbelief, or accusations, but she was just looking at him steadily. His pulse quickened as she touched him gently, and then she leaned in to kiss him. Just a soft brush of her lips against his before she backed away again. "Thank you for being honest and telling me. I can understand why you want to keep your past life secret, and I swear none of this will ever be printed in the paper. I'm part of this with you, ever since I got grabbed in the parking lot. I want to help you find who's doing this to you."

"It's too dangerous, obviously. You could be hurt," he said firmly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"And it's okay for you to take chances?"

Derek shrugged. "I have no choice."

"Do you know who Gareth stole the painting from? Maybe I can do some digging into that."

"Richard is trying to look into that."

"Richard Webber? I met him tonight after you were taken away. He seems nice."

"He was the one who taught me everything I know."

"Oh my god!" Meredith's eyes went wide, thinking of the urbane gentleman he'd seemed to be.

"Appearances are everything, and discretion is key."

"It seems like something out of the movies, the gentlemen thieves who fool everyone."

"I won't lie to you, Meredith; it was a thrill to plan the job, to execute it perfectly, and to get away with it. Almost a sexual rush sometimes," he confessed, caressing her cheek. With her straddling his lap in the tub, his arms went around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Sexual hmm…?" she murmured, raising her eyebrows at him.

His body responded to the feel of her wet skin sliding against him, but he wasn't sure if this was the right time to be thinking about making love to her. "Are you sure you want to be involved with me now?"

"Derek, I told you I wasn't going to judge you. You did what you had to do to survive, and you came out of it as a better man, I think."

"Thank you," he said, feeling relief at her words. This time he didn't resist the allure of her body, kissing her hungrily. Her legs wrapped around his waist as the kiss deepened, as if they needed to affirm the connection between them. Meredith trailed her fingers through his wet hair, along his jaw and down to his chest. Breaking the kiss, Derek took her hand and kissed her fingers, and then pressed his mouth into her palm.

Her body trembled slightly, and her free hand slipped beneath the water, down until it closed around his cock. The sudden contact made him groan, and she leaned in to press her lips to him in another soul searching kiss. His hips lifted against her, as she stroked him slowly, while her tongue met his in a passionate duel.

Reaching down, he eased her hand away from him, and thrust into her quickly, so quickly she gasped in surprise. He kept his arm around her tightly, as though everything would fall apart if he let her go. The water eddied around them, still warm, still fragrant, while he tried to take his time and make the moment last. Meredith clung to him, her mouth everywhere on his neck, his face, his temple and he gave up trying to control anything. They rose and fell together, until she shuddered against him and the climax tore through him instantly as well.

* * *

Meanwhile, across the city in a dimly lit bar that had seen better days, another man and woman were having an intense discussion and sharing drinks. But their tone of voice was more conspiratorial, and not at all sensual. Callie Torres grasped her glass of wine and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. "Damn, couldn't we meet somewhere they have decent wine, at least?" she asked.

"This place is out of the way, no one comes here but hard core drinkers."

"Ha, I can understand why."

"Seriously, can we forget about the wine? We need to discuss getting the damn painting away from Shepherd. He's not going along with the plan."

"And whose idea was the plan? You swore to me that Gareth wouldn't get hurt," Callie hissed. "He didn't need to die."

"Oh, but he did," her companion said smoothly. "He would have figured out what you were up too sooner or later, and told his brother. We can't have that. Now if Derek doesn't cough up that painting, he goes down."

"Why don't you just steal it back from him? You keep telling me you have the ability to do that."

"I may have to resort to that, but he's been a thief long enough to know how to protect himself. He's not going to keep it somewhere easy to get at, or easy to break into."

Callie fiddled with her wineglass again. "You brought me into this plan because of my talent at painting forgeries. You wanted Gareth to steal that painting so that we could make a perfect forgery and sell it and keep the original. What part of this plan involved all of this elaborate frame up? Gareth trusted you, he told me that on more than one occasion. How much he looked up to you, and how he knew you were going to pay him enough cash so that he could get out of Seattle."

"He was starting to get suspicious at the end that I had something else in mind."

"You mean you didn't want to do a forgery switch?" Callie asked.

"Oh, I still plan to do that once we get the painting, but it was just a small part of my plans."

Callie shook her head slowly. "Incredible. And you think you scared Meredith Grey enough to help you now? You saw them at the funeral, and the charity ball…she's in deep with him whether she admits it or not."

"Ah, yes, I realize that and I hope it works to my advantage. Derek will be caught up in trying to protect her and let his own guard slip. He can be quite the knight in shining armor, given the chance."

"So what do we do now? I hate waiting."

"Patience, Ms Torres. All good things come to he who waits."

"Yeah, well, I've never been patient."

* * *

Meredith woke up later, wrapped up in bed with Derek's arm around her waist. It was still dark and quiet, and she listened for a moment to his steady breathing beside her. Her bed was considerably smaller than his, and his presence there was distinctly masculine among the soft pillows and sheets. It had been a long time since she'd been with anyone like this. None of the guys she'd dated had ever been seriously involved; most of them were quick flings, just to have some fun and that had suited her just fine. Mark had been more than that, but even so, she'd realized quickly it wouldn't last either.

She turned slowly, and faced Derek, looking at his features in the moonlight. What was she getting into with him, she mused. He was so different from the other men she'd dated, and he'd come to mean more to her in a short time than she'd expected. Part of her rational mind was telling her that he was a thief, and she should stay away from him at all costs. The emotional part of her mind was telling her that he was a good man, despite his past; he was intense and passionate and obviously wanted to be with her. And the sensual part of her mind was screaming that he was hot and sexy and she should keep him in her bed as much as possible.

Smiling a little, she realized her lust for him was definitely winning the arguments. But was that enough to keep the relationship going for the long term? And what was going to happen with this whole mess of blackmail and stolen paintings and threats? Too many questions made her sigh and flop back against the pillows.

Derek's arm tightened at her waist, and she glanced over to see that his eyes were now open. "Bad dream?" he asked quietly. "Heard you sighing..."

"No dreams, just too much thinking," she confessed, rolling to face him again. She traced his cheek gently. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I usually don't sleep too deeply."

"Are we okay here? I mean, no one followed you here right?"

"Meredith, I know how to lose anyone watching me when I have to. No one knows I'm here." He propped himself up on one elbow and gave her a quick smile. "But I can leave if you're worried about it."

"No, please stay," she said, moving closer to him, so that their bodies were touching again. She tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him gently. Unlike most of their encounters, she didn't feel like rushing this time. She wanted slow and sweet, with desire spooling in her core, as his hands caressed her. Still, the arousal kicked up between them as always, and the sheer joy of touching and kissing, finding each other hot and ready, took over. Derek slid between her legs, teasing her with his mouth until she whimpered for release. Only then did he slide himself into her, and she was lost again, looking into his eyes while the pure pleasure washed over them both. It was intense and sweet and they both wanted the moment to last as long as possible.

Derek kissed her before he moved away, taking her with him. He held her tightly, her backside against his groin, concentrating on the feel of her in his arms, where she fit perfectly. For the moment, he tried not to think about everything that might happen in the near future. He tried not to think about how she might hate him once everything was falling apart and he had to resort to his old ways in order to fix this mess.

He kissed her, just behind her ear, where he'd discovered she liked to be kissed and she made a little contented sound. Feeling her relax into sleep again, he closed his eyes as well, and let himself drift away with her.


	13. Asking Questions

**So this is weird, posting Ch13 on Friday the 13th...nothing can go wrong...right?**

**Anyway, thanks as always to everyone for your reviews to the last chapter, and for all of you still favoriting/following me. I appreciate all the support so much. Guest Elliot, thank you for the review, I'm glad you enjoy my AU stories, and that you felt strongly enough about it to let me know. **

**Again, it's been busy in real life, and I'm always afraid I'm not going to have something to post for you. So I hope you're happy with how things go, not so much action, but it can't always be fast and furious.**

* * *

**Chapter 13  
Asking Questions  
**

The next morning, Meredith was seated at her desk, when she caught a glimpse of Mark sidling past her as if he was trying to avoid talking with her. She grinned to herself, and let him get as far as his office before she jumped up and followed him. Stopping at his doorway, she leaned against it as he prepared to set down his coffee cup. "Morning boss, late night?" she smirked.

"Wha…? Damnit, Grey!" he muttered, spilling coffee over his fingers. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sure, but I'm curious about your night with Anya. Did you have fun?"

Mark dropped into his chair tiredly, rubbing his temples. "What I can remember about it, yeah…some of the details are a little fuzzy."

Meredith laughed, and perched on the edge of his desk. "Ah, yes, drinking is always a good idea at the time. And look at that bruise on your throat, my my…" She couldn't resist teasing him in retaliation for what he'd said about Derek the day before. Even though so much had happened, it seemed like more than just 24 hours had passed.

"Fine, mock me now," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm just going to sit here and wait for my head to stop pounding."

"I'll tell everyone to be quiet," Meredith said sweetly.

"Go away." Mark cracked one eye open. "Wait, what happened with Shepherd?"

"He wasn't formally charged, and they let him go after his lawyer got there. I'm doing some digging into Callie Torres, the girl who showed up at the funeral." She and Derek had decided she should continue with that angle for now, while he talked to Richard about finding the owner of the painting. They weren't sure how much work Hunt would put into finding other suspects now that he had his sights on Derek, and wanted to try to keep ahead of the game.

"Mmm, all right, but don't spend too much time on it. There's other news going on you can cover."

"Sure. Did you read the piece I did last night?"

"Saw it. Good work."

"Oh, and by the way, the security guard needs to keep a better eye on things," Meredith said, getting to her feet. "Someone nearly mugged me in the parking lot last night."

"What?!" Mark sat up straight, wincing at the sudden movement. "What the hell happened?"

"I was caught by some guy who wants to feed me information about Derek's past. He threatened me if I don't go along with it, I'll be sorry." Meredith shivered a little, remembering the low voice hissing in her ear.

"Shit, I'll talk to the guard. That shouldn't be happening here. Are you hurt? Did you tell the cops?"

"I'm fine, and no, I didn't talk to the police. I told Derek, though."

Mark frowned. "You should still tell the cops."

"Um, no, I don't want to do that. I didn't get hurt and they'll just blow everything out of proportion."

"Okay, if you say so. My head hurts too much to think about it right now. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you, Grey."

"I know, you were a little preoccupied."

"So are you going to take this information?"

"I can take it, but it doesn't mean I'm going to use it."

"I don't think I want to know what's going on with you and Shepherd," Mark sighed. "Somehow you're on his side now. Just be careful, all right?"

"I'm always careful," she murmured, patting his shoulder. "Talk to you later, boss."

* * *

Derek had been a little tired himself when he got home, but he went through his usual morning routines of a run and a long, hot shower. The previous evening had certainly been a rollercoaster of highs and lows, but he felt relieved that he told Meredith the truth about his past. As he dressed, he realized that he had been happy to be with her, and didn't feel the usual need to leave as he normally would with his other women in his past. She was smart, feisty and passionate about everything, and he didn't want anything to happen to her. Until this mess was fixed, he really had no right to expect more of their relationship.

As he took his morning coffee on the terrace, he mulled over the direction his life was taking. He spread the paper out in front of him, but he couldn't focus on the headlines, even though his arrest was front and center. Meredith's piece was front page in the Enquirer, and he scanned it quickly. She had been very fair in her coverage, he had to admit. He wondered briefly if his situation would mean any kind of impact on the dinner crowd tonight, but more than likely everyone would wonder if he would make an appearance. It would only add to his allure.

His cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and he was glad to see it was Richard calling. "Good morning, Richard."

"Derek, thank goodness you're not in jail. I spoke with Ms Grey last night, and she was quite upset at your arrest."

"It wasn't pleasant, but they released me after my lawyer made an appearance."

"Did they really have enough to even bring you in?"

"Enough I suppose. Kind of circumstantial in my view. You taught me well enough to know not to leave anything incriminating, so if I had been the one to commit the crime, there'd have been no trace of me. Damnit it, Richard, I wouldn't lose a cufflink or leave trace evidence!" Derek got up and paced along the terrace, before leaning on the railing and watching some of the boats in the bay. The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. "I was never sloppy about my work, so this is so damn obviously a set up."

"Ah, but the police don't know you were the Shadow Thief so of course they don't know you wouldn't leave evidence behind."

"I guess I was too good," Derek frowned.

"You said they had a cufflink of yours?"

"Found it under the front seat of Gareth's car. I guess they think I lost it in the struggle. Someone is doing a damn good job at this."

"Indeed, it would seem that way. Well, I do have something that might help; I believe I might have a lead on who owned that painting."

"That would help immensely."

"It might mean you need to step back into your old persona," Richard warned him. "I would do it myself to help you, but my arthritis has been acting up lately. Feeling a little stiff most days."

"I wouldn't ask you to. This is my business."

"All right, but you know if you need anybody to keep an eye out, I'm your man."

"Thank you. Now what have you got for me?"

* * *

Meredith made some notes as she scrolled through various search screens and websites. Callie Torres also had her brushes with the law, even though she'd never spent any time in jail. She had a background in art as well, working in various galleries, but she had been implicated in some forgery scams which left her work record tainted. For the past few years, she had been in business for herself, running a small decorating business that specialized in painting murals that replicated some famous artworks. The shop was called 'Faux Elegance', and the address listed was close to the newspaper office.

"Interesting," Meredith murmured. "I wonder how she hooked up with Gareth…and was she dating him or just pushing him to steal that painting? Maybe I need to head over there and do a little interview."

"Talking to yourself is a bad sign," Mark observed behind her. "Who are thinking of interviewing?"

"Callie, she's got a shop close by. I'll tell her I'm doing a piece on local home improvement companies, what d'you think?"

"Maybe I should go with you."

"You don't look up to going anywhere," Meredith said, getting to her feet and grabbing her purse. "I'll be fine. I'll play it up as being just a piece for the Life & Style section, nothing serious."

"Call me when you're heading back here. If I don't hear from you I'll come look for you."

"Thanks, Mark." She patted his cheek. "Your eyes are still bloodshot. Go have a nap in your office."

Along the way, she called Derek to let him know what she'd discovered so far, but it went straight to voicemail. She left him a short message, just as she pulled into a parking spot close to Callie's shop. The small building was nestled between a coffee shop and a beauty supply business, with a gold lettered sign proclaiming specialized artwork.

Once inside, she found a display area cluttered with empty picture frames, swatches of fabrics, and bits of statuary and tile. There were also several paintings on the wall, all of them looking quite authentic. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Be right there!"

Meredith poked around some of the papers lying on the desk, before Callie appeared out of the back office. "Hey, Ms Torres?"

"Yes…" Callie was wiping her hands on a towel, and she looked at Meredith curiously. She was wearing ripped denim overalls and a long sleeve black t-shirt, with her glossy black hair tied back in a ponytail. "Can I help you?"

"Meredith Grey, from the Seattle Enquirer. We're doing some articles on local home improvement businesses for the Life & Style section next week. Your business sounded interesting, so I hoped you could spare me some time for a few questions about what you do. I'd be so thrilled if you could show me around, your work sounds so fascinating!" Meredith extended her hand, giving Callie a bright smile.

"Oh well, sure I guess." Callie discarded the towel and shook Meredith's hand. It was a firm grip; the woman had some strength in her hands.

"Awesome!" Meredith pulled out her little tape recorder. "You don't mind if I use this?"

"I guess not."

"So what got you started in this business?"

"Just a love of art, and the need to put food on the table!" Callie laughed. "I love painting, but selling my own stuff wasn't really working too well. So this gives me a chance to be creative, as well as earn a living."

"Did you paint all of these you have on display here?" Meredith waved her hand towards the artwork on the wall.

"Sure."

"Isn't it forgery to recreate these?"

"Only if I try to sell them as the real thing! Seriously, everyone knows I'm just doing reproductions." Callie shifted, looking at Meredith. "Are you interested in buying any?"

"Oh, not right now. I know someone that loves art though, maybe I could buy one as a gift sometime." Thinking of Derek's artwork, Meredith smiled to herself at the idea of buying him a forged painting.

"Of course."

Meredith asked more questions, as Callie led her on a brief tour of the shop. There was a small office in the back, along with more art canvases, and piles of papers everywhere. Once they were back where they'd started, Meredith paused, as if recalling something. "I understand you knew Gareth Shepherd, the man killed recently. Is that true?"

"Where did you hear that?" Callie asked sharply.

"I work for the Enquirer, Ms Torres, gossip is our mainstay. I believe you were spotted at the funeral."

"He was a friend. Now what does that have to do with my work?"

"Nothing, of course. But I'm sorry for your loss." Meredith clicked off the recorder, noting Callie's sudden wary expression. Not exactly the picture of a woman that had recently lost someone close to her.

Callie shrugged. "Whatever. Now, if you're done, I really have to get back to work. I have to pick out some marble for a kitchen I'm working on."

"Well, can I call you if I have more questions, once I sit down at the computer?"

"I suppose so." Callie handed over a business card. "Now I do have to go. I appreciate the interest in the business. Always good to get some free advertising."

Meredith nodded. "All right then. Good luck with everything." She turned to leave, feeling strangely uncomfortable suddenly. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Callie hadn't moved, but was speaking urgently on her cell phone. "Damn…"

Just as she stepped outside, someone touched her shoulder and she nearly screamed, swinging her purse in self defense. She turned to see Derek, who had ducked in time to avoid being hit, and she sagged in relief. "What are you doing here? You scared me half to death!" She swatted his chest in irritation, making contact with the soft leather of his jacket. He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt under the jacket, his hair damp from the rain. She realized she hadn't really seen him dressed casually like this before, except in that photo, and the effect was just as devastating as when he wore his tailored suits.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, guiding her towards the coffee shop. "Are you out of your mind coming here, Meredith? You don't know for sure what she's up to."

"She's definitely not grief stricken over Gareth's death, that's for sure."

They got their coffee, and settled into a booth with a view of the street. "You should have waited for me. I thought we agreed you were researching only," Derek reminded her, folding his arms over his chest. "After someone threatened you, you need to be careful."

"She's just an artist; she does reproductions and faux finishing. What's she going to do, come at me with a paintbrush?"

"Not funny. I know you're not accustomed to dealing with things like this, but trust me, whoever is behind this means business," Derek said quietly. He leaned forward, his eyes intent on her.

Meredith smiled slightly. "I do, after everything you've told me, I just was so excited to track something down."

"Understandable. But I would hate for you to get hurt on my account." Derek covered her hand with his, stroking his thumb against her palm. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless…"

"All right, I promise." She squeezed his hand in response. It was a little strange to have someone that concerned about her.

"Now, you said Callie was an artist? That's interesting."

"She does reproductions, like I said, for decorating purposes. There's a few paintings displayed in the shop, they look pretty good. But I do feel like she's hiding something Derek. She was making a call as I left, and she looked upset."

"Maybe I need to have a look around, see what she's got hidden away."

"You think she'll talk to you?" Meredith looked at him over her coffee cup.

"I'm not planning on waltzing in the front door," he said, winking at her. "I need to do it when she's not around."

"You're going to break in?"

"Does that change your opinion of me?"

"No, of course not, but you could get caught…"

Derek tilted his head. "I've had a little experience, remember?"

"Can I come with you?"

"No, definitely not." Derek shook his head, before taking a sip of coffee. "I spoke with Richard today as well, and he has a pretty good lead on who the painting was stolen from. I'll need to check into that as well. He's offered to help me, but I prefer to work alone."

"So what if you can return the painting? How will that help you prove someone else killed Gareth?"

Derek frowned. "My thought was if I don't have the painting, the blackmailer won't have anything to hold over me. He's been pulling the strings, and I don't like it." He glanced at his watch. "Do you have to get back to the office right away?"

"Not necessarily, why?"

"I think we could both use a little diversion. I don't have to be at Ravish for awhile, and I can't do anything about the other things until after dark. How about a ride on my bike; take the ferry over to Bainbridge Island?"

"Really? You like taking the ferry?" Meredith grinned at him, and his eyes danced in return at her obvious surprise.

"I love ferry boats, always have," he said. "Are you okay with the bike? I have an extra helmet, and your jacket should be warm enough." His admiring gaze slid over her soft green sweater, well worn jeans and ankle boots. Her own leather jacket was stylish, but would keep out the damp well enough.

"It sounds like fun; I've never had a ride on a motorcycle."

"Not just a motorcycle, honey. It's a Harley," Derek smiled, as he got up and held his hand out to her. "We can have a nice lunch; pretend everything is normal for a few hours…?"

She took his hand and stood up beside him. "That sounds like we're playing hooky, and I'm all for it." It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to guide her towards the door, his hand at the small of her back. "Just let me call Mark, or he'll send out the cops to look for me."

"He's quite protective of you," Derek said, and Meredith thought there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"Mmm…maybe. Just protecting his interests," she laughed, pulling her cell phone from her purse. "Are you jealous?"

"I think we had this conversation already," he replied, walking her around the corner where his Harley was parked. He stopped and pulled her against him, and leaned closer so that his lips were close to hers. "I was never jealous before in my life, until I got mixed up with you, Meredith. Every time I think of Sloan with you I want to plant my fist in his face. Why do you suppose that is?"

Sliding her arms around his neck, Meredith tilted her face to his with a little sigh. "Maybe the same reason I wanted to smack Anya when she was hanging on you at the ball. Just hormones out of control?"

"Mmm...maybe," he agreed, pressing a kiss below her ear, so that she quivered in response. Then he kissed her cheek, and brushed his lips over hers before looking at her. "Or maybe it's more than that. We'll have to wait and find out..." he murmured. "Ready to go?"

"All right." She took the helmet he offered, as he swung his leg over the bike, fastening his own helmet. She managed to get in position behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Take me for a ride, Derek..."


	14. Into the Dark

**I thank you all for your reviews to the last chapter, and I love your enthusaism for the story. I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all of you personally lately, but time has been flying by, and before I know it the week is gone again. One of you asked about whether I was continuing the story once the case/scenario was done - quite honestly, I don't know. My main focus was telling the story as it is, so we'll have to see once we get that unravelled. **

**The site has been having some troubles today, so I hope you're able to log in and read this. Here we have MerDer escaping some of the stress, and Meredith sharing her past with him; and then Derek reverts to his old ways, with things not going according to plan...**

* * *

**Chapter 14  
Into the Dark  
**

Meredith shivered as the damp invaded her jacket, standing along the rail of the ferry beside Derek. He slipped his arm around her, pulling her in against him, and she welcomed the heat of his body.

"We could go inside," he said, grinning at her.

"No, it's fine." She tipped her face up to look at him. "This is nice, I forgot how peaceful it is out here."

"It is."

For a few minutes they were quiet, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Then she laughed softly. "That was an amazing ride."

"I didn't scare you, then?"

"Not really." It had been exhilarating ride, leaving her breathless, but not scared. With her arms wrapped around Derek's waist, leaning in against him as he expertly took the curves and sped along the freeway, she had felt sure he was in control.

"I thought I heard a little squeak once or twice," he teased her.

"I never squeak!" Meredith protested.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, noting they were alone before kissing her temple. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Meredith." His arm tightened around her, as he dropped another light kiss on her cheek. "I don't know what's going on with the blackmail, what Callie's involvement is, or who is behind it all, but I know that when I'm with you none of that matters. You matter to me, and it's not just hormones out of control. I like to think we're past the teenage hormonal stage, after all."

Meredith touched his cheek. "You have a lot to worry about, Derek. I don't want to be a distraction. What we have…"

"...is totally unexpected, and I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere." She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, pressing close to him, feeling the heat rise between them as it had from the beginning. Everything else fell away, as she slid her fingers through his damp hair, and the kiss deepened. For a few moments they let themselves indulge in the kiss, before voices of some of the other people on the ferry intruded. They broke apart, and leaned back against the railing, content to just enjoy the quiet and each other's company without talking.

* * *

"Do you know who was just in here?" Callie demanded, pacing around her shop with her phone at her ear. "Meredith Grey, that's who! Claiming to be writing an article about my shop for her damn paper! Writing an article, my ass!" She still felt unsettled after finding Meredith waiting for her in the shop's display area.

"Did you tell her anything?"

"What, am I an idiot? Did I tell her we're planning on selling forged paintings to make a fortune but Gareth got in the way? Sure, that would go over real well."

"Just calm down. I'm sure she can't tie you to anything."

"Listen, if you can't get that painting soon, I'm outta here. I still need to pay my bills, and waiting around for this big deal to come through isn't helping. I have other work to do."

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. "Are you threatening me, Callie?" he asked, and the tone of voice sent a chill down her spine. "Don't forget who's running this deal. I have a plan in motion to get the painting, so please don't push me."

Callie sucked in a breath, stopping her agitated pacing. "Fine. No pushing, I got it."

"If all goes well, we should be in business soon, and Derek and his nosy girlfriend will be out of the picture...pardon the pun."

Rolling her eyes, Callie grabbed her purse from the desk. "Good. But until then, I have work to do." She ended the call and stormed out of the shop, setting the alarm and locking the doors hastily. She did have work to do, but she needed a drink first to take her mind off the mess she'd gotten herself into. Her conscience still bothered her about Gareth; forging art was one thing, but murder was something else altogether. Was the money really worth that?

* * *

"Are we talking about Callie?" Meredith asked, once they were settled on the deck of Harbor Public House. The restaurant was one of the most popular in Bainbridge Island, within walking distance of the ferry. The air had warmed and the mist had burned away, leaving them a wonderful view of the sailboats on the water. The waitress had just taken their orders and left two glasses of Shiraz for them.

"No, we're taking a few hours for us. Look at that view, it's too good not to appreciate," he said, taking off his jacket revealing the black t-shirt underneath. It fit perfectly, clinging to his muscled chest in ways that made her eyes drift away from his face for a moment.

"Um…okay. You know that shirt fits you really well, and I'm having trouble looking at the other views?" she sighed, sipping her wine.

Derek winked at her. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." She kicked him under the table. "What are we talking about?"

"Just tell me about you, Meredith. I've bared my soul to you, after all. Have you always lived in Seattle?"

"No, I was raised in Boston, where my mother was a very much in demand surgeon. So much so that she drove my father away, and pretty much left me in the care of others most of my life. Mom made a pretty good living, and she spoiled me a lot to make up for not being there." Meredith spoke calmly about her past, as if she'd come to terms with it long ago. "But I was kind of a brat and did my best to ditch my nannies or the housekeeper when I could. I wanted to look after myself and not rely on anyone. Of course, I managed to get into trouble a lot, but nothing serious."

"That sounds like a lonely life," he said, touching her hand. "I mean, I didn't always have the best of everything, but Mom was there for us. I have a lot of good memories of being a kid. What kind of trouble did you get into?"

Meredith laughed softly. "Usual high school crap...sneaking out of class, getting drunk, dying my hair pink and black..."

Derek's eyebrow went up at the last comment. "I bet you looked cute with that color combination."

"You have no idea! I thought I was the coolest girl evah..." She tossed her hair playfully. "Thank god I grew out of that phase. But Mom thought it might be best to get me out of that crowd before things got too out of hand, so she took a job here at Seattle Grace and we moved before my senior year of high school."

"Ouch, bad timing," Derek sympathized.

"Tell me about it. The only thing that saved me was meeting Cristina. She'd just moved here with her mother as well, and we kind of meshed together in a twisted sisters kind of way. Mom always liked her since Cris had plans to go to med school. I had no desire to get sucked into that." Meredith paused, and gazed out at the sunlight bouncing on the water. "Then after I graduated high school, Mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She hung on for a long time, I think due to sheer stubbornness, hoping that I would make something out of myself. Unfortunately, she died without seeing that…"

"I'm so sorry, Meredith." Derek moved his chair a little closer, catching the little tremor in her voice. "I'm sure she knew you would find your way eventually." He stroked her arm gently as she blinked away some tears that she hadn't expected.

"I don't know. She was always so certain about her own work, she couldn't understand my indecision," Meredith sighed. The waitress returned with their food; bowls of clam chowder and plates of steamed blue clams and pan fried oysters. It all looked mouthwatering, and she took the opportunity to pull herself together.

"So when did you get into the newspaper business?" Derek asked, once they had sampled the food.

"Oh god, not right away. Writing always came easy in school, and after Mom was gone, I decided I couldn't float around Europe like a hobo anymore after all."

"Wait...Europe? That sounds like a story right there."

"Trust me, Derek, you don't want to hear about it. To make a long story short, I came home, took some writing courses and started doing freelance pieces. The job at the Enquirer came open, and here I am!" She gave him a crooked smile.

"What about your friend Cristina? Is she still here?"

"Oh yes, she's at Seattle Grace, one of their brightest attending cardio surgeons. I'll have to introduce you sometime."

"Meeting your friends...that sounds serious," he said, winking at her.

"Well, I've met your friend Richard."

"True, he's more of a mentor than anything, but I have known him for years."

"Yes, you mentioned that. Do you trust him?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Shrugging lightly, Meredith took a sip of wine. "Guess I've read too many novels; no honor among thieves and all that."

Derek felt a flash of irritation at her suggestion, but he pushed it away. "What would he hope to gain by betraying me?"

"Just forget I mentioned it, Derek. I'm sorry." Meredith squeezed his hand. "We aren't talking about that right now anyway, as I recall. Why don't we go for a walk and enjoy the rest of the afternoon once we're done here?"

* * *

Later that night, however, the conversation came back to haunt Derek, as he checked the address Richard had given him earlier. It was a house in one of the areas of Seattle where the old money reigned. He was parked on the street, in a car he'd rented under an alias; it was a waiting game at the moment, watching to see if there was any activity inside, or if anyone was stirring on the grounds. Which left his mind turning over the possibilities of what Meredith had asked him. Though his gut tightened at the very idea that Richard would betray him, Derek decided to keep that in the back of his mind for now and concentrate on the job at hand.

After he was certain that everything was quiet, he slipped out of the car and made his way towards the gates fronting the street. He took a deep breath as he prepared to do something he'd sworn never to do again. But he had no choice; this was the only option he had at this point. He reached into the slim tool pouch attached to his belt and pulled out what he needed to pick the locks. As he suspected, the gate was merely for illusion, the lock was flimsy and more decorative than functional, and it was only moments before he was making his way carefully along the perimeter of the yard.

As always, his adrenaline was kicking in, and he felt the old familiar sense of the thrill of the moment. He'd done his usual advance scouting of the alarm system, and he knew where the cameras would be placed for the best sweeps of the yard. His dark clothing blended with the shadows, as he moved stealthily towards the back of the house. It didn't take long to find the best place to break in, partially hidden by large cedar bushes. He could see the alarm system lights blinking inside, and he set himself to the task of picking the locks carefully. Blocking out all other thoughts, he was pleased to find his fingers were still adept as before and he slipped inside quietly. Within another minute, he had the alarm efficiently disarmed, and he breathed a little easier.

He took a moment to get his bearings, before venturing away from the door. According to Richard's information, the owner of the house had a special climate controlled room where he kept his artwork. The stolen Monet was only one of several masterpieces that had been assembled, only to be appreciated by the owner.

The house was quiet, obviously the owners were gone, but Derek wasn't taking any chances. He used his small halogen penlight sparingly, as he made his way up the spiral staircase that reminded him of some examples of DNA strands he'd seen once. Part of him appreciated the gorgeous architecture, no money had been spared in building this.

After checking several rooms, he found the right one. Cool air swirled around him as he stepped inside and he stopped in his tracks at the sight of so many rare paintings on the walls. It was like a miniature museum, and he nearly whistled. Then he spotted the empty frame, still on the wall, marking the place where the Monet had once been.

"Perfect," he whispered, quickly unfastening a canvas tube from across his back. He could just reposition the painting for the owner to find and...then a sudden creak behind him made him whirl around, prepared to duck behind the curtains. He could see a shadow moving in the hallway, lit by the moonlight, and then he picked up a familiar fragrance in the air. Shaking his head in disbelief, he moved towards the doorway and intercepted Meredith just as she was about to step inside.

Her eyes went wide, as he pulled her against him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed in her ear. "This isn't a good idea."

"I j-just had a bad feeling about w-what you're doing," she stuttered quietly. "I followed you."

"For god's sake, Meredith. You could get us both in trouble." Derek released her, and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Damnit..."

"I was careful! Don't yell at me," she hissed back at him.

"I'm not yelling. I'm just..." he started to say, when he heard another sound. This time it was barely audible, but he indicated for her to be quiet as he guided her away from the doorway. Once they were concealed, he wrapped his arm around her, feeling her breathing quickly against him. She was trembling slightly, but there wasn't anything he could do at this point to comfort her. He took a chance and peered around the curtains, seeing the silhouette of another person waiting quietly at the door, and he found himself holding his breath.

"You can come out now, Derek, I know you're here..." The voice was pitched low, but it made them both jerk in response.

Meredith looked up at Derek in shock, and their eyes met. "I know that voice..." she whispered in his ear and he nodded grimly. "He was the one who caught me in the parking lot. He..."

"Just come out here, I'm getting tired of waiting."

Derek put his mouth at Meredith's ear. "You stay here. Do not move, understood?"

She nodded, just as he kissed her mouth quickly. Then he stepped away from the curtains, confronting the man waiting for him. "I assume you came for this?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral and almost bored, as if he had been expecting the interruption. He held out the canvas tube with the painting inside, looking at the shiny barrel of the gun pointed towards him.

"You've been a damn sight uncooperative before, toss it over here."

"How do I know you aren't going to shoot me when you have it? Set the gun down and you can have it."

Behind the curtains, Meredith covered her mouth, feeling sick with apprehension. She couldn't quite see what was happening, but hearing Derek mention a gun made her knees buckle. _Gun? Oh my god, Derek, don't be stupid...don't get shot...don't get shot..._ Then she remembered she had her cellphone in her pocket, and she fumbled to pull it out without making any noise. She thanked god she'd ha the foresight to shut off the ringer before as she silently tapped out a text message to Mark.

_Call Det. Hunt, we need the cops, hurry! _Then she added the address, and hoped he had his phone on and close by.

Meanwhile, Derek was still holding the painting as he waited for the gun to lower. "Just come and take the painting. I won't stop you," he said quietly. "But I want to know one thing...why did you kill Gareth? Just tell me that...Richard..."

Meredith stifled another gasp as Derek spoke, before looking at her phone again. Mark hadn't replied yet, and she bit her lip in concern. She could only imagine Derek's turmoil at discovering his old friend and mentor was the one behind the blackmail. How the hell were they going to get out of this now?

* * *

**So yes, I still refer to the hospital as 'Seattle Grace', it will always and forever be that to me. And I hope I surprised some of you with Richard...though I'm sure some of you figured that out. **


	15. Falling to Pieces

**So first of all, thank you all for the great reviews again. I'm glad you enjoyed Meredith & Derek's ferry ride, and I hadn't really realized that they never shared that on the show. Funny how that was missed there, that almost seems like sacrilege!**

**Now this chapter, I wasn't entirely happy about...somehow it turned out different than I expcted in some ways. I didn't really mean to turn this into an action/adventrue type story...maybe I've been watching too many cop shows on TV! At any rate, I mean to get past the intrigue part quickly, and back to more basic MerDer hotness.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 15  
Falling to Pieces  
**

Derek continued to look steadily at the man who had been more than a mentor for many years and he felt equal parts shock and disgust. He was also aware of Meredith's presence behind him, and he made himself focus on keeping calm in order to keep her safe.

"Richard? Aren't you going to say something? I don't care about the painting. It's caused more than enough problems already." Derek held the painting in one hand. "If you needed some money, you could have just asked me. I would have helped you in a heartbeat. Gareth didn't have to die over this."

"Now what makes you think I had anything to do with Gareth's death?" Richard asked. "Just because I want the painting..."

"Don't lie to me. Who else would he have been working for that he trusted? I don't know what kind of sick game you played to get to me, but I know you took advantage of him. I trusted you and you've been manipulating me to get what you want."

"I don't have to manipulate you, Derek. Don't forget I trained you, I taught you everything you know. I can predict what you're going to do even before you know it yourself." Richard advanced a few steps, gun still held steadily at Derek. "Now tell that pretty girlfriend of yours to stop hiding and come here."

"Leave Meredith out of this, she doesn't need to be part of this," Derek said quietly. "This is obviously between you and me, Richard."

"Ah, but she fell right into the middle of this," Richard said smoothly, walking past Derek to yank the curtains aside. Meredith tried to shove the phone in her pocket quickly, but he caught the movement and grabbed it out of her hands. "Ms. Grey, you disappointed me. I thought we had a deal."

"You thought wrong," she replied evenly, but her heart was skittering wildly as he dragged her towards Derek.

Richard shook his head, pocketing her cell phone. "I hope you haven't done something stupid like try to call the cops. That could get messy for all of us. But then, I intend to be out of here soon, and leave you both for the authorities to find, guilty of breaking and entering, attempted robbery, and of course murder."

"The evidence about Gareth is pretty circumstantial," Derek pointed out, sliding his free arm around Meredith to hold her close.

Richard nodded. "True enough, but I wasn't talking about Gareth. Ms Grey here will be the victim, with you holding the murder weapon. Murder/suicide is always so tragic, don't you think?"

"Damnit, Richard, what did I ever do to you?" Derek demanded, trying to stall for time.

"It's all about you, isn't it? You think you have it all, don't you?"

"I worked hard to get where I am, you know that. Nothing was ever handed to me."

"You would've been in jail as a young offender if it weren't for me! I was the one that recognized what you were capable of or you would just be another petty thief," Richard scowled, waving the gun towards them angrily.

"So you want recognition for that? Fine, I agree with you, I've never denied the fact you were the one who helped me. You profited quite well from what I brought you, as I recall. But why did you bring Gareth into this scheme?"

"Because he was more desperate for cash, and you weren't willing to hand over anything. You turned your back on the only family you had left, Derek. Your mother would have been so disappointed."

"I was trying to help him make something of himself, not just drift through life," Derek sighed. "But I'm sure you don't understand that."

"Oh, I understand, Derek. Unfortunately, Gareth was weak. He jumped at the chance I offered him, and Callie was there to sweeten the deal so to speak. But enough talking, just give me the damn painting."

Meredith squeezed her eyes shut, certain that they weren't going to get out of this. Derek's grip on her relaxed for a moment, pushing her behind him before he dove at Richard, knocking the other man to the floor. For a moment, they grappled for the gun, as she watched in horror, frozen to the spot. The canvas bag Derek had been holding rolled away unnoticed in the fight, and she quickly managed to gather her wits and retrieve it. As they continued to scuffle, she edged towards where she had spotted some piles of brown wrapping paper earlier. With only moments to spare, she stashed the painting beneath them, and stuffed a roll of paper into the bag itself.

As she turned around, she saw Richard raising the gun again, while Derek wiped the sweat out of his eyes. Both men were breathing heavily, blood trickling from the corner of Derek's mouth as he froze in place. She held up the bag. "Here! This is what you want, take it!" She threw it towards him, and his attention wavered between the bag and Derek. She thought for sure Richard would give up the fight at that point, but he let the bag fall at his feet.

"Thank you Ms Grey," he said, bringing the butt of his gun down against Derek's temple quickly. "Now, come over here and pick that up for me."

Meredith bit back a whimper, seeing Derek slumped on the floor. "Did you kill him?"

"No, he'll just have a bad headache when he wakes up."

"Oh thank god…" Meredith dropped to her knees, and felt for his pulse.

"Now as for you, my dear…" he started to say, when they both heard the faint sound of police sirens. "Time to leave. I think I'll take you with me, just a little extra insurance."

* * *

Derek shook his head groggily, before the sharp scent of smelling salts hit him and he found himself looking into Mark Sloan's concerned face. He blinked and looked again, wondering if he was seeing things. "What the hell...?" he muttered, trying to get to his feet.

"Hey, easy man, you were out cold," Mark said, putting a hand on Derek's shoulder.

"Meredith...where is she?"

"That's what I'd like to know. You're the only person here, but what the hell happened? Looks like you were in a helluva fight."

"Yeah..." Derek rubbed his temple, feeling the lump forming there. "What are you doing here?"

"Meredith texted me, asked me get Hunt but I couldn't get through to him direct. I left a message but I figured maybe I could help." Mark looked around again, whistling at the paintings on the wall. "Impressive stuff."

Derek struggled to get to his feet again, and this time Mark helped him stand. "Shit, Richard must've taken her."

"What? That guy we met at the ball, your friend?"

"Not a friend," Derek said coldly. "He's been framing me for Gareth's murder, it's a long story, Sloan."

"And he's got Meredith now?"

"Looks like it. We need to get out of here. There's been too much going on here tonight, damnit."

"You look like hell. What was Meredith doing here?"

"Trying to help, but we don't have time to talk about it," Derek frowned, looking around. The canvas bag was gone, and he could only assume that Richard had it, along with the painting.

"If she's hurt..." Mark started to say, but Derek cut him off.

"Don't! I know this is on me, Sloan. You have no idea how I feel right now!" Derek shouted, shoving Mark aside. "I'll find her, and I'll make Richard pay for whatever he's done. If you want to help me, fine, if not get the hell out of my way!" He stopped in his tracks, staring at the pile of papers and canvases in the corner where something caught his eye. "Damnit, Meredith, what did you do?"

In the struggle, he'd lost track of whatever Meredith was doing, and she was obviously hiding the painting. He yanked it out of the pile and shook his head. "Shit that means Richard hasn't got it, and once he figures that out he's going to use her for leverage..."

"Painting? Leverage...?" Mark asked, trying to understand, as Derek brushed by him. "Wait..."

"I'm not waiting..." Derek kept going, ignoring the headache throbbing in his temple. "Just follow me, and don't ask any questions right now. We need to leave here and make sure we don't get caught. The last thing we need is for Hunt to show up and arrest us."

"Oh crap," Mark muttered, but he hurried after Derek, keeping his mouth shut. They just made it outside, after Derek reset the alarm when they heard sirens approaching.

"Let's go. Stay close and we'll be gone before Hunt gets here."

"Do I want to know how you're obviously an expert at this?" Mark hissed, trying to keep up as Derek seemed to melt into the shadows. Obviously he wasn't going to get an answer to that question, at least not right now.

* * *

Callie looked up as someone pounded on the back door of her shop, and she swore in irritation. She was working on a copy of a Degas for one of her clients, trying to keep her mind occupied. She stuck the paintbrush behind her ear, and wiped her hands as she went to peer out the peephole. "What the hell…?" she muttered, undoing the locks quickly. "Richard? What are you doing with her?"

"Insurance, Callie," he said, pushing past her with Meredith in tow. "Here's the Monet, you can get started on the forgery now."

She caught the bag, hesitating before opening it. Part of her just wanted to throw it back at him and tell him to find another forger. "Were you in a fight? You should put some ice on that bruise..."

"Don't worry about it."

"You fought with Derek, didn't you? Is he dead too?"

"Not yet, but he might wish he was once the police get a hold of him."

Meredith tried to break away from him. "You won't get away with any of this. Derek knows what you did…"

"And he'd be a fool to tell anyone. His past would come to light, he'd go to jail for all of his past thievery. I'm sure Det. Hunt will be very pleased to discover him there, it was good of you to take care of that detail for me. Now just sit down and keep your mouth shut." He pushed her towards the chair, and used a length of rag to tie her hands behind her back, before looking at Callie again. "All right, open that up, I want to see it up close."

Meredith bit her lip, suddenly apprehensive about what was going to happen when the reality of the switch came to light. But it was a little too late to be worried about that, she just hadn't counted on the fact she was going to be present for the reveal. Her thoughts flashed to Derek, and she hoped that he was really all right; she wasn't an expert but the knock to his head looked pretty bad.

Callie opened the bag, and pulled out the brown paper. "Richard, there's no painting in here..."

"What?" He took the bag and shook it, as if that would make something appear. When nothing else came out, he spun around to glare at Meredith. "Where the hell is my painting?"

* * *

Derek slid behind the steering wheel of the rental car, and Mark quickly dropped into the passenger seat. "Where the hell do we go from here?" Mark asked sharply. "And what the hell is going on?"

Without speaking, Derek put the car in gear and drove away from the curb slowly.

"Not in a hurry, are we?" Mark asked, looking back at the police cars coming up the street.

"Only if we want to draw attention to ourselves. Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

"Seriously? Like you knew what you were doing out cold? And you knew what you were doing when Meredith was taken?" Mark snapped. "Forgive me if I don't believe you!"

Derek's jaw tightened. "I was blindsided. It won't happen again."

Before Mark could say anything else, Derek's cell phone rang and he grabbed it quickly, seeing her name on the display. "Meredith!"

"Ah, I'm afraid not Derek," Richard answered. "I assume since you are answering your phone that you're not in police custody?"

"Good guess. Where is Meredith?"

"She's with me, but she's interfered with my plans. I'm sure you realize what she's done, and you have the Monet in your possession now?"

"Yes, damnit."

"Good, then we can do a trade. Bring me the painting and you can take your girlfriend home with you. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, you know damn well we do. Where are you?"

"I'm at Callie's shop; I believe you know where that is."

"Yes, I do. I'll be there as fast as I can." He ended the call and tossed the phone aside, and glanced at Mark. "Where's your car? I'll drop you off."

"There's no way I'm letting you do this without me." Mark crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at Derek. "Meredith is my friend, whatever happens I'm not backing out of this."

Derek clenched the steering wheel tightly. "I don't have time to play alpha male games with you, Sloan. I didn't like you before and the feeling isn't changing."

"Hey, don't forget who helped you out back there, pal. You're not exactly on my buddy list either, but Meredith seems to like you, so let's just deal with it."

They drove the rest of the way in silence, as Derek sped through the late night deserted streets. He was consumed with mental images of Meredith in trouble, fearing what they would find once they got to Callie's shop. The building was dark when they pulled up outside, but once they made their way around the back, he could see a sliver of light through the closed venetian blinds at the windows. He stopped, and rubbed his temple carefully. The headache seemed to be intensifying, but he forced himself to ignore the pain.

"Are you going to be able to handle this?" Mark asked. "You might have a concussion."

"I'm all right. You should wait outside, they don't know you're with me, and that could be an advantage if things get out of hand. Don't do anything stupid." Derek didn't wait for a response, just knocked sharply on the door and then pulled it open. For a moment, he paused, realizing that he should have been more careful but he was too focused on getting to Meredith. She was sitting on a chair in the middle of the crowded storage room, hands tied behind her back, and a scarf tied around her mouth.

"Meredith..."

"Don't move," Richard warned him, the barrel of the gun making contact with Derek's back.

Derek froze in place, making eye contact with Meredith, hoping he could reassure her that he would do everything he could to keep her safe. "Look, I'm here. Just take the painting, and let Meredith go. I'll even stay here in her place." At this comment, Meredith raised her eyebrows in alarm.

Richard nudged the gun a little harder into Derek's back, forcing him forward. "I can see you're quite taken with Ms Grey. I really didn't believe you had it in you to love anyone. You've had such a string of women in your life, after all."

"Are we here to do this deal, or give me advice on romance?" Derek asked sarcastically. The comment about loving Meredith took him off guard, but he kept his expression neutral.

"By all means, let's do this deal," Richard agreed. "You've always been able to see your way clear, if nothing else."

Derek nodded. Up until now, at least, seeing his way had been straightforward, but now that Meredith had entered his life it wasn't that simple. Still he needed to keep a level head, he could deal with emotions later. "The painting is here..." he said, patting his jacket, "let me pull it out. I don't have any weapons, all right?"

"I know all the moves, Derek. I'll take it from you, if you don't mind." Richard reached for the painting, just as Callie came up behind him. She raised her hand and struck the back of his head with a small statue. Richard slumped to the floor and Derek turned to look at Callie in surprise.

"I thought you were part of his scheme..." he said, raising one eyebrow. "But thank you..."

Callie shrugged. "I just couldn't go through with more crap. I was afraid everyone would end up dead. I didn't sign up for that."

Derek hurried over to Meredith, and quickly undid her hands and pulled the scarf away from her mouth. "Are you all right?" He searched her face for any kind of expression of pain, or fear, but she managed a smile.

"It's been more than I anticipated tonight, but yeah...I'm okay," she replied, putting her arms around his neck. "What about you? You had a pretty bad crack on the head." Her fingers touched him gently.

"I'm okay,.." he said, but suddenly everything seemed to spin crazily, and he fought to keep from falling. "Meredith..."

"Derek, what...?" She clutched his arms, just as Mark burst through the door. "Mark, call 9-1-1, I think he's losing consciousness..." She cradled Derek against her, smoothing his hair gently. "It's all right, you're all right, Derek, do you hear me? Don't you dare die on me..."

He lifted his head, as sharp pain knifed behind his eyes. "I'm not...dying. I...love...you..."

Then he fell against her, and everything went black.


	16. Emotional Healing

**Thank you all again for your reviews, your thoughts and concerns about the last chapter! I'm always thrilled at the responses, and the continued interest. So I left you on a wee bit of a cliff there last time, didn't I? This chapter slows down the pace somewhat, from the action to the emotional fallout, and the focus on MerDer time. We'll get back to the rest of what's going on next time round.  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 16  
Emotional Healing  
**

In the darkened quiet of the Seattle Grace hospital room, Meredith was sitting in a chair beside the bed where Derek was laying. He was breathing steadily, his eyes closed, and the heart monitor attached to him was pulsing reassuringly. She rubbed her temples tiredly; it felt like the evening had gone on forever, and it still wasn't over. So much had happened in a short time frame to bring her to this moment she wasn't sure how to process all of it. After Derek had collapsed, it was all kind of a blur.

She remembered that Mark had called for help, and that the ambulance and Det Hunt seemed to arrive at the same time. While the ambulance attendants tended to both Derek and Richard, Hunt had tried to ask questions but no one had been giving coherent answers. Another ambulance arrived, and Meredith made her escape with them as they took Derek to Seattle Grace. She didn't care what Hunt was doing with Richard, he deserved to be locked up for what he'd done this evening as far as she was concerned.

Once they had arrived at the hospital, Derek had been hurried into ER. All she could do then was stand by helplessly, as medical staff in blue scrubs took over to check his vital signs and bark out orders to have him taken away for CT scans and other things she couldn't follow. Cristina had come running, along with the neurosurgeon, Dr. Heather Brooks. Both of them had done their best to convince Meredith that Derek had likely just suffered a mild concussion, and that it would just take some time for him to recover. The tests had to be done to be sure, for precaution sake.

_"Just wait here while the tests are run, and I promise we'll find you, Mer," Cristina urged. "Mark is here, he can sit with you, all right?" Glancing at Mark who nodded, taking Meredith's arm to help her to a chair in the waiting room. She was still clutching Derek's jacket, and she looked at him a little dazedly._

_"He's going to be okay, Grey," Mark said gently. "Shepherd's not about to die anytime soon, not after that dramatic announcement. Gotta hand it to him, that's a helluva way to get your sympathy."_

_Meredith glared at him. "Not funny, Mark."_

_"Sorry, just trying to cheer you up. I've never seen you this way. Are you in love with him? I mean, you could do worse..."_

_Sighing a little, she closed her eyes. "I don't know, exactly, yes...I think so...I just can't lose him, Mark. What if he dies without knowing how I feel?" Tears leaked from her eyes, and all he could do was keep his arm around her, offering his support. For once, he had nothing else to say._

After what seemed an eternity, the tests were completed, and Dr. Brooks had determined that the concussion was not severe, and there was no evidence of bleeding or brain damage, thankfully. He had been awake briefly and lucid, but she had felt it best to admit Derek overnight for observation. With Cristina's help, Meredith was able to stay with him, for which she was extremely grateful.

Now she put her head down on her forearms against the edge of the bed, closing her eyes briefly. She felt extremely tired, but she wasn't about to leave until she knew if Derek was going to be all right. Not that she didn't trust Dr. Brooks; the petite surgeon had been extremely calm and competent, dealing with Meredith's fears with patient sympathy. Still, until she could see for her own eyes that he was all right she intended to stay with him. At the sound of Derek's chart being picked up, she looked up to find Cristina standing there, reading over the notes.

"Oh, I thought you went home, Cris."

"Just leaving, figured I'd check on you two again." Cristina set the chart aside again. "Are you going to tell me what happened tonight, Mer?"

"It's a long story," Meredith sighed. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you right now."

"Are you all right? No bumps or bruises?" Cristina surveyed her critically. "Maybe you should have been checked out too."

"I'm fine. I promise I'll try to explain everything soon."

"Okay. I'll hold you to that."

"Thanks for being here earlier, it helped a lot."

"You need to rest too."

"I will," Meredith assured her, yawning widely as Cristina slipped away. Then she felt Derek shift slightly, and she glanced up to see him opening his eyes slowly. "Derek! Thank god..." she murmured, getting to her feet. "I'm going to ring for the nurse..."

"Wait..." he said, his voice unsteady. "You okay...?"

"I'm fine, really. I was just so worried about you." Meredith slipped her fingers in his, and squeezed lightly. "When you passed out, I was scared to death."

"Never did that before," he admitted.

"Do you remember what happened?" She wasn't sure if he had just been delirious when he'd told her loved her.

"Kind of fuzzy, but I do know what I said," he replied.

"You do, hmmm? I can let you off the hook for being under stress," she teased him gently.

"Just...come here..."

Meredith leaned in towards him, looking at him carefully. There were a few bruises on his face, and his lip was split from the fight with Richard. Stubble was dark along his jaw, his hair was disheveled and a bandage was in place where he'd been hit. "What?" she whispered. "I should really let you rest. Dr. Brooks was very clear about what the after effects of concussion are."

"I meant it...you know..." he said slowly. "What I said. I love you."

She felt the sting of sudden tears, and she bit her lip. "Derek..."

"Shh...I just needed...to say it." He managed to give her a slight smile, and she melted even more. She gripped his hand a little tighter.

"You're crazy, you know that? What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Kiss me?"

"You're supposed to be resting, not kissing," she whispered, but she moved in closer to him. His eyes were fixed on her, his gaze a little unfocused from the concussion, but still triggering a torrent of emotion in her. Gently, she pressed her lips against his; the kiss was warm and sweet and she felt desire and relief well up in her. He managed to deepen the kiss, softly parting her lips, searching for her tongue with his, until she was breathless. He fell back against the pillow, and smiled at her, that special smile that always sent the rush of desire curling right down to her toes.

"Even here, banged up like this, you still manage to have this effect on me, Derek," she whispered.

"It's a gift," he said, attempting to wink but the effort seemed to be beyond him at the moment.

"You need to rest now. I'm going to be right here." She smoothed his hair gently.

"What about...Richard?" he asked, fighting to stay awake then.

"I don't know for sure, and you don't need the aggravation of worrying. Go to sleep." She watched his eyes drift shut again, and she kissed his forehead gently. "I love you, Derek..."

* * *

_Three days later_

Derek had been released from the hospital with strict orders to rest, avoid strenuous exercise and keep things quiet. So far it was driving him mad. Without being able to go to the restaurant, he was concerned about how things were running; Hunt was leaving messages to speak with him about Richard, and being confined to bed alone really didn't help his mood. The bedroom had too many bouquets of flowers from the staff at the restaurant, several of his old girlfriends, even Anya had sent something. It made him feel like he was in the middle of a florist shop. So far Hunt had been accommodating about the wait, but Derek was sure the detective was just biding his time.

With a heavy sigh, he tossed aside the book he'd been trying to read, and picked up his phone. No one said he couldn't call the restaurant, just to make sure everything was all right. He glanced at his watch, the evening dinner rush would be well underway and he missed the excitement of being there. After everything that happened with Richard, he just wanted to get back to normal again. He was in the middle of a conversation with the hostess, who assured him everything was running smoothly, when Meredith peeked into his bedroom. She wrinkled her nose at him, seeing that he was on the phone, before wandering to look out the window. The sun was just sinking behind the horizon, and dusk was settling, making the bedroom shadowy. She switched on a decorative Tiffany lamp, admiring the soft glow it created, before going to perch on the edge of his bed.

Derek finished up the call, and relinquished his phone to her. "You didn't see that," he said quickly.

"Derek, you know what Dr Brooks said. No stress."

"Stress is not knowing what's going to hell without me at Ravish," he frowned as she set his phone aside. "But I'm happy to see you." He took her hands in his and squeezed her fingers. She had been there as much as she could, but slept in the guest room to let him rest, much to his disappointment. For now, he tugged her closer, so that he could smell the lavender scent of her hair, and she shook her head slightly at his frustration.

"I'm glad to see you too," she sighed, kissing him lightly. Lightly slowly became more passionate, as he managed to pull her across him. His arm slid around her waist, as he reveled in the feel of her against him. Strands of her hair tickled his cheek, and he tangled his fingers in them to keep her close.

She finally disentangled herself, and settled in beside him, her head against his chest. He could feel her pulse beating quickly, just as quickly as his own. "How much longer am I supposed to be resting?" he sighed softly, toying with her hair again. Parts of his body were definitely not willing to rest, and his other hand strayed over her hip, so he was able to angle their bodies together again. From there, he caressed the skin above the waistband of her jeans, beneath the edge of her sweater. Her breathing hitched again, as he explored higher along her ribcage and then over the lacy cup of her bra. Feeling the hard jut of her nipple against his palm encouraged him to keep going, as she moaned softly in response. He claimed her lips again, kissing her more deeply, while he eased her breast away from the lace confines. Everything else fled his conscious thought, his arousal taking over. He needed to know that he was alive, and making love to Meredith was the best way to affirm life. To hell with what Dr Brooks said.

"Derek...this isn't the best thing..." Meredith whispered, but her voice was breathy with desire. Her hands slid over his chest, the thin material of his t-shirt unable to disguise the strong muscles underneath it.

"This _is_ the best thing for us," he breathed. "I need to feel alive, we nearly lost each other. I promise to go slow and easy, no sudden moves...just being with the woman I love. I swear I feel fine, no side effects..."

"You're impossible..." she laughed softly. "You know damn well I can't resist you like this. I want you right now too, Derek, being with the man I love…" There, she'd said it again, and for a moment he paused. While she might have thought he didn't hear her that night in the hospital, he definitely recalled that she'd told him she loved him then. He hadn't been completely asleep yet, but since then they hadn't talked about their late night confessions.

Now he stroked her hair away from her forehead, and kissed her gently. "Are you sure about loving me? After all you've witnessed about my life now?"

"Derek, seriously…I know what I'm getting into with you. Yes, I've seen what you do, and you shared your past with me, but it doesn't scare me. Maybe I was more surprised about you falling in love with me, knowing your romantic past…should I ask _you_ if you're sure about how you feel?"

"Meredith…"

"Wait, I think we need to talk about this…" she told him, moving back and sitting up against the pillows. "A lot of things happened to you recently. You lost your brother, you were accused of murder, the man you regarded as a friend and mentor betrayed you and knocked you out cold. I know your whole life has been turned upside down, and you met me in middle of that. Our relationship didn't exactly start out on the best footing; I think you kind of hated me at first…"

"I wouldn't call it 'hated', that's too strong a word…more like mildly disliked," he protested, sitting up beside her. "But you had a way of getting around my defenses that I couldn't resist…"

"You had those defenses from the time you were young, I'm sure. Life wasn't always easy for you either, and I think you tried to keep everyone at arm's length to keep from getting hurt. All of the women you were with before, none of them got close to your heart because you kept a lid on your emotions. I'm sure it was less complicated, but you didn't do that with me. You let me into your life, Derek, and showed me what kind of man you really are. And I think I started to fall in love with you once I saw that…even if I didn't want to admit it right away. I was pretty good at keeping my heart locked away too, I had my dark and twisty past to blame."

"Hmmm, quite a pair, we are. You say you're all dark and twisty. It's not a flaw, it's a strength. It makes you who you are," he told her gently. "Maybe we were meant to be together..."

"That sounded exceptionally cheesy, Derek," she giggled softly.

"It did, didn't it?" He pulled her closer again, and she looked up at him, her eyes shining and warm. "I'll stop talking now." She melted into his embrace, and they kissed softly and sweetly as she moved over him. His hands slid up beneath her sweater again, finding the curve of her breasts, and the nipples that hardened under his touch. Desire swamped both of them, as his arousal throbbed against her. Rolling across him, the urgent need to be joined together took over. She was shaking with need, and she pulled at his t-shirt, exposing his chest. She pressed small kisses over him, down to his belly, and then back to his lips again.

As he watched her moves hungrily, she pulled her sweater over her head, swinging her hair free to frame her face. Her smile was sensual as she undid the clasp of her bra, and let her breasts fall free for him to admire. Then she helped him remove his t-shirt, her fingers roaming across his lean body, tracing the tattoo and the scar gently, before reaching his belt. His hips lifted, and his abdomen quaked in response as she slowly undid the belt and his zipper, deftly stroking him.

With a low growl, he rolled her over and laid her back on the crisp sheets. The luxurious material felt delicious on her bare skin, and she quickly wiggled out of her jeans to lay naked under his hot gaze. Derek ran his hands along the soft contours of her body, and gently parted her knees. He dipped his head to kiss her ankle, the swell of her calf, and the tender spot behind her knees. He dropped warm kisses along her thighs, but avoided the one spot she wanted him the most right then. Meredith sighed in bliss and let herself open wider for him, willing him to place his mouth where she ached and throbbed. He continued to kiss her silky, fragrant skin along the curve of her waist and the soft spot under her breast. She rolled her hips higher, seeking his touch. Leisurely, he continued to kiss her everywhere else, until she was going mad. "Derek….." she moaned softly, "more…I want more…"

In response, he put his lips around her breast, taking in as much of it as he could, his tongue wrapping around her sensitive nipple. His fingers brushed between her legs, and she whimpered from the sensation on both aching spots at the same time. Her body arched up into him, and as he sucked on her nipple, he pushed his fingers deeper into her. She rocked her hips into it, delirious from the pleasure he was giving her. Sucking and thrusting, he brought her to a shuddering climax, until she collapsed backwards, trembling and panting.

Her eyes closed, Meredith let her body relax by degrees in the aftermath of the orgasm. The bed shifted, and the next thing she felt was his naked body covering hers, and she opened her eyes, wrapping herself around him in welcome. His cock was pulsing against her, slowly seeking her warmth and wetness. She took him inside inch by inch, until he filled her completely. For a moment, Derek held himself still, drawing out the anticipation of the pleasure. "This is what we need," he told her, his blue eyes intense with desire. "This is perfect, just like this."

Her arms slid around his neck to bring him closer, so their hot skin touched everywhere. He was hot and throbbing, and she squeezed around him tightly, so that he closed his eyes at the sensation. "It is perfect," she whispered, "just love me, Derek."

It was all the invitation he needed to thrust hard into her, kissing her urgently. Lifting off the bed, she met his every thrust, pulling him in as far as he could go. Meredith called out his name again and again as the crest of the orgasm hit her. He moved with her, losing himself in the pleasure as well, until they were both spent and sated.

Derek buried his face against her throat, feeling the wild beating of her heart, matching his own. "I think that was a little more intense than I intended," he murmured.

"Are you all right? No sudden blinding pain?" she asked quickly, looking into his eyes. But there was no pain there, only drowsy satisfaction, and she relaxed again as she curled against his side.

"No pain," he assured her. "But I don't feel like moving, or dealing with anything outside of this bedroom just yet."

"I know. Hunt's probably going to come knocking on the door again soon, demanding to talk to you. Lucinda has managed to keep him outside; she's very protective of you," Meredith told him, slowly caressing his chest with her palm. "I'm lucky she likes me."

"She's tough all right. I'll deal with Hunt soon enough, but now that you've taken advantage of me I need to rest again..."

"I didn't...!" Meredith laughed, sitting up to look at him. "You were quite the willing victim then, Mr. Shepherd...but if you're that exhausted, I'll just leave you alone and go find something else to occupy myself with." She made a move as if to slide out of bed, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her down beside him again, tickling her so that she erupted in giggles.

"Don't you dare think about going anywhere," he warned her, pressing her down against the sheets. "You can stay right here and make sure I'm all right. You wouldn't want me to have a relapse and not be here to help me."

"Don't even joke about that," she whispered, winding her arms around his neck. "You're right, I'm not going anywhere, Derek..."

He lowered his mouth to hers again, losing himself in the moment again, in the pure, inescapable need they had for each other. There was nowhere else either one of them wanted to be, and they were content to keep the world away for a little while longer.

* * *

**A/N ** **Yes, I brought Dr Heather Brooks, aka Mousy, back to life here, she was the only new intern I liked on the show, and I hated to see her demise. So yay for being able to have her become a neurosurgeon here LOL.  
**


	17. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Thank you to all for the great reviews, and I see that I wasn't the only one who liked Brooks on the show. Her character was quirky and talented, and I always enjoyed her scenes with Derek. Thank goodness for fanfic! I'm glad you were happy with the MerDer focus, and that they were open about their feelings for each other.  
**

**Now I have to admit, I've been a little distracted this week - I'm off to Las Vegas next week for a few days of vacation! Which of course means I won't have a chance to have an update for you next week, sorry...! So I hope you enjoy this chapter. Here we find Derek feeling better and trying to get back to dealing with things, but it doesn't quite go as planned. Oh, and some MerDer hotness to keep you going until next time too.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 17  
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back  
**

Derek woke up early the next morning, finding Meredith curled against him, and he felt oddly peaceful with that discovery. He glanced at the clock, noting the time, and he took care not to disturb her just yet. For the first time since the concussion, he felt cautiously optimistic that the worst of the after effects of it were gone. There was no pain at his temple, and he felt only a slight stiffness in his muscles from the fight with Richard. It was time to get back to his life, and that meant dealing with Det. Hunt and the fallout from that night. He had avoided it long enough.

Meredith stirred a little beside him, and he tightened his arm around her. Despite everything else going on, he knew that having her in his life was the best thing that could have happened. He just needed to make sure everything worked out so that they could stay together like this. At this point in his life, he didn't need his past coming back to destroy his future.

He trailed his fingers along her skin slowly, just needing to affirm his connection with her. Sleepily she stretched out, and looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Hey..." she murmured.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Derek kissed her temple. "It's still early."

"S'okay. You feel sick?"

"I feel good, no pain, and no nausea."

Meredith moved to rest against his chest. "That's good news. I'm sure Dr. Brooks will be happy to know that when you see her today."

"I don't need to be cleared for duty, Meredith. I'm planning to talk with the lawyers today, I'm not sure how long that will take," Derek sat up, and ran one hand through his hair. "Call her and tell her I'm fine. If I have any symptoms, I'll get in touch with her."

"Typical male reaction," Meredith muttered.

"I've been an invalid long enough. It's time to get back to taking care of my business, and dealing with Richard's betrayal. Having Dr. Brooks shine lights in my eyes, and look at my CT scans isn't going to change anything, Meredith," he explained, rolling over to cover her body with his.

"I'm just worried, Derek. It really hasn't been that long," she sighed, winding her arms around his neck. "Promise me you won't do anything strenuous today."

His mouth quirked into a wicked smile before he spoke. "Ah, so making love to you again is out of the question…? Too strenuous, I suppose." He dropped a light kiss at the hollow of her throat, feeling the pulse beating quicker with her response.

"You're changing the subject…"

"Mmm...not really." He continued to kiss her, moving along her collar bones, and down her chest. He glanced up at her, feeling her little involuntary quiver. "Just proving to you I'm feeling good enough to get back to dealing with things again. Is it working?" Lowering his head again, stroking his tongue around her nipples one by one so that she whimpered softly.

"Yes..." It was all she could manage to say.

He paused for a moment, admiring her, before he snagged a pillow. "Lift up your hips," he urged, sliding it beneath her. "Much better," he breathed, small puffs of warm breath on her moist skin. His lips traveled along the sensitive skin of one inner thigh, to her knee, and back up again. For the briefest second, his tongue flicked across her wet folds, before he went down the other thigh. Meredith moaned again, as her legs fell open even further for him. He kissed, licked and bit lightly at her skin, igniting slow delicious throbbing in her clit. She abandoned herself totally, her world reduced to the feel of his mouth on her. He knew exactly where he wanted to take her, and she followed willingly, as if in a fever dream.

"Oh, oh, my god, oh -" she whispered, not wanting it to end, and he hadn't even touched her clit yet. She melted back against the sheets, and just as she thought it couldn't get any better, he stroked her there, and she nearly screamed out loud. He spread her apart with his thumbs, and concentrated on sucking and pulling, drawing out the pleasure that radiated to every part of her. Her climax began to roll over her, and she tightened and spasmed over and over, as he kept going. With a final soft cry, she went limp and he let her go slowly. He crawled back up her slick body, to kiss her, long and wet and deep, so that she tasted herself on his tongue.

He wanted her again, wanted all of her soft wetness, her sighs of bliss. Easing her leg up around his waist, his arousal ready, he slid into her easily. It was perfect, like no other feeling on earth, as her slickness enveloped him tightly. He indulged himself, pulling out and then thrusting back into her as slowly as he could manage.

Meredith let her hands roam lazily all over him, along his back, and then down between his thighs. He opened his legs wider, and felt her small hand cup his balls, kneading and tugging with delicate fingers. He groaned low in his throat, and bit down on her breast, taking her nipple in his teeth, not even wanting to climax yet. All he wanted was to stay in the hazy limbo, entwined with her, their hips meeting and moving in rhythm. He just wanted it to go on for as long as they could, in utter mindless pleasure. It felt so good and hot and sweet, and her soft little cries of pleasure only increased his own ardor. Capturing her lips, he licked the inside of her mouth, and softly bit her lip, sealing her mouth with his, sealing them together with the same breath.

It was achingly wonderful for Meredith, to feel him inside of her, on her, all over her. She loved the way he felt, all hard, lean muscle moving on top of her, each flex and thrust of his hips pushing deeper into her. His hand slid across her skin, up along her upper body, to rest at the hollow of her throat. He pressed her back against the bed, his palm hot on her skin. It was almost like bondage, and primal dominance, demanding submission. Their gaze locked, his eyes dark and glittering, as he pulled her even tighter against him.

He pressed down from inside of her, and heat flowed through her body. More sweat broke out across her and tremors started deep inside of her. He closed his eyes, and his head went back. Moving against her, he pumped harder and harder, getting her hotter, making her wilder. Her legs tightened around him, and she felt the first pulsing jerk of his release into her. More molten heat filled her, and as he thrust again, she went with him, drowning in ecstasy. It consumed her with pleasure that went to her bones and her soul, as they became part of each other.

* * *

A few hours later, Derek was ushered in to see Alex Karev. The defense attorney's office was spacious and well appointed, with large windows that gave an impressive view of Seattle. Addison was already seated in front of the desk, and she smiled at him as he walked in. "You're looking well after your ordeal, Derek," she observed, seeing him wearing one of his usual tailored suits.

"I feel well," he replied, kissing her cheek before taking the other empty chair. Alex's secretary returned with a tray of coffee, of which Derek accepted thankfully. His caffeine intake had been limited during his recovery, and he inhaled the rich aroma gratefully.

"Good, let's get down to business," Alex spoke up, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head. "We need to know everything. How the hell did you end up in the hospital with a concussion, and Richard Webber is charged with kidnapping and assault?"

"Not to mention, he claims that you have a painting that belongs to him. Hunt is understandably anxious to speak with you about all of this," Addison said, arching one eyebrow at him. "This hardly sounds like the urbane restaurant owner I've known all along."

Derek adjusted his cuffs, glancing at Addison, before answering. "I've managed to avoid Hunt, thanks to the concussion. My housekeeper is quite adept at keeping people out when she deems it necessary. Now that I'm feeling better, I knew I needed to come and speak with you before things get out of hand."

"You haven't seen the papers then, I take it?" Alex asked.

"I'm sure they are having a field day with the story. Meredith kept me in the loop, but I didn't feel like reading anything."

"Seeing how she was the focus of the story along with you, I understand she has been given a leave of absence from her job at The Enquirer."

"She said she was taking some personal leave," Derek admitted. Mark had been completely understanding, telling her to take as much time as she needed.

"Maybe she should have come in with you today. She's a big part of this, after all."

"She didn't do anything; she was caught in the middle between Richard and me. She's the victim here."

Alex sat up straight in his chair again, and picked up his Mont Blanc pen. "Why don't you start at the beginning, and let me decide what to do next? That is what you're paying me for."

"Of course," Derek agreed, taking a sip of coffee before setting the cup aside. "Without divulging too much of my past, which isn't open for discussion, Richard Webber was trying to frame me for murder," he said calmly. "I've known him for years, and I have no idea what his motive was. The night I realized the extent he was willing to go to, he took Meredith Grey hostage and threatened to hurt her if I didn't turn over a painting that Gareth had stolen. A painting Richard hired him to steal, I might add."

"And what painting would this be?" Alex inquired, without pausing in his note taking.

"A very rare Monet, one that has been rumored to be lost for several years. I believe that Richard enlisted my brother to steal the painting, in exchange for a large amount of cash. But instead of paying him, I think Richard killed him, and then decided to frame me for it, for some twisted reason I can't figure out."

"Richard Webber is a well respected art dealer, why would he want a stolen painting?" Alex asked.

"I believe he was going to have a copy made, a very good forgery, which he would then return to the owner as the real thing, keeping the original for himself. He was allied with Callie Torres, who has her own business making faux artwork. I guess she had a change of heart, since she was the one that knocked him out."

Addison shook her head in disbelief. "Derek, this all sounds incredible."

"I don't recall hearing of any great art theft lately," Alex commented.

"You wouldn't. I'm sure the person who had the painting obtained it illegally to begin with, so he could hardly report it missing. There's more artwork of the great masters in private hands that you realize," Derek said.

"So how did Meredith Grey get involved in this? Hunt indicated that she had been tied up when they found her, and she gave her statement that Webber kidnapped her. You were apparently coming to her rescue and then you passed out from a blow to the head received earlier. Where did that take place?"

"I'd rather not say," Derek hedged, taking another swallow of coffee.

"Whatever you say here is protected by lawyer client privilege. I can't do a proper job of defending you without knowing everything, Derek. Secrets have a nasty way of coming back to bite you in the ass when least expecting it," Alex pointed out. "First rule, tell me everything."

"You know you can trust him," Addison said quietly. "Whatever you're involved in, he'll do his best to defend you, with all of his skills. I wouldn't have brought him to you in jail if I didn't know him to be tenacious." She looked at Alex, and there seemed to be an intimate look pass between them but Derek couldn't be sure.

"If it makes a difference, I've been digging into that life insurance policy." Alex shuffled through papers on his desk. "Here, it was taken out six months ago, showing you as the main beneficiary, just as Hunt told you. However, the premium was set up through a lawyer who made the payment on his client's behalf. Right now, I haven't been able to get the name, but I have someone working on that."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure it was Richard."

"So fill us in, Derek," Addison prompted. "What happened that night?"

* * *

Meredith made her way through the cubicle maze that was the Seattle Enquirer, acknowledging a few greetings from the other staff. Mark was on the phone when she peeked into his office, but he waved her inside, quickly ending the call as she settled into the chair.

"What are you doing here, Grey?" he demanded, putting the phone down. "You're supposed to be resting and recuperating from your ordeals."

"I know, I'm just on my way to Seattle Grace to have lunch with Cristina. Thought I'd pop in and say hi."

"Mmm, bored already?"

"Not exactly. I'm just not used to having free time," Meredith admitted. "Derek's feeling better, and he's with the lawyers right now."

"You never did explain what happened the other night. I'm guessing there's more to Shepherd's past than you're willing to tell me."

"Mark, I'm sorry I got you involved, but I didn't know who else to call! I was freaked out, but I really appreciate you helping out like you did."

"Hey, didn't I tell you I'd protect you?" Mark grinned.

"You got there a little late for that."

"But I saved your boyfriend. And I've made sure the articles aren't too inflammatory, most of the focus has been on Webber. I'm dying of curiosity about the damn painting though. You have to admit, being summoned to a house in the middle of the night, into a room where priceless paintings are hanging, and then running off with yet another painting in hand does tend to make a guy ask questions. Especially someone who has reporter's blood in his veins."

"It's not really my story, Mark. But it has to do with Gareth's murder, and Derek's being framed for it. Thank goodness Richard's been arrested, he's the one behind it all."

"Then you haven't heard the news?" Mark asked, raising one eyebrow. "It was just on the news channel, Webber's been released on bail." He indicated the television that was on, the sound muted, in the corner of his office.

"What?" Meredith bolted out of her chair, her hand reaching in her purse for her cell phone. "I've got to tell Derek. What if he comes after him again?"

"I'm sure Hunt knows and will be doing his duty to protect and serve," Mark said dryly. "I'd put money on Webber skipping bail and taking off to Bermuda or Mexico, not hanging around here."

"But he doesn't have his painting," Meredith said quietly. "He's not about to leave Seattle until he settles whatever grudge he's got against Derek."

Mark shook his head. "Then he's got his priorities messed up. I'd be gone in a heartbeat…"

"Well, maybe…but just in case, I'm texting Derek right now. I can meet him over at the lawyer's office."

* * *

Derek checked his phone, and quickly read the message from Meredith. "Damnit," he muttered, looking up at Alex. "According to Meredith, Richard's out on bail. Did you know about that?"

"No, what the hell..." Alex frowned, and quickly grabbed his own phone. After speaking with someone, he shook his head and set the phone down. "Yeah, he's out, posted bail this morning. You think he's going to cause more trouble?"

"Oh, I'm pretty certain he will," Derek said, getting to his feet. "Meredith is on her way over here, I'm going to wait for her. I don't like to think that he's out there somewhere scheming to try something else."

"All right, I think we're done here. You've given me good information to work with," Alex said, standing as well to shake Derek's hand. "Trust me, I'm good at what I do, and we'll have this all sorted out soon."

"I hope so." Derek nodded at Addison, and strode briskly out of the office.

* * *

By the time Meredith reached the office tower where Karev, Montgomery & Assoc. were located, Derek was waiting outside for her. He was leaning against his Porsche, where it was parked in the curving driveway, arms crossed over his chest. He had his long Burberry trench coat open over his suit, and the wind was ruffling his hair. More than one woman walking by into the building turned to take a second look, but the stormy expression on his face made them hurry along. But when he caught sight of her running towards him, his mouth curved into that smile of his that made her knees go weak and his eyes were warm with concern. He caught her hands, and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Are you all right?"

"Me? What about you?" Meredith touched his cheek. "How did the meeting go?"

Derek shrugged. "Well enough, but I'm more upset about Richard. He won't sit around waiting for the lawyers to work things out. I want to get that painting into a safe deposit box where he can't get at it. My office safe isn't nearly secure enough to keep him out now that he's desperate."

"Oh god, I never thought about that," Meredith frowned, as he unlocked the car doors and she hurried around to get inside.

Derek slid in beside her, starting the car so that it purred into life. For a moment, she took the time to appreciate the luxurious interior of the vehicle again. "I do love this car, you know," she smirked.

He flashed her a grin before he spun away into traffic. "Once this is all done with, we'll have to take a road trip," he said, before concentrating on making his way towards Ravish. "Did you talk to Dr. Brooks?"

"I did, and she's pissed at you."

"What?"

"Just kidding, but she does want you to come in as soon as your schedule permits. She said sometimes a person feels fine, but a relapse is possible."

"Great. I'll have to see her soon then."

"I'll make sure and go with you. I like her, and Cris says she's one of the best neurosurgeons on the West coast. You're crazy not to see her."

"Mmm, in that case...my brain will be in her hands," Derek conceded, just as they pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant. They entered the back door, where the kitchen staff was already there, prepping for dinner. Meredith's stomach grumbled despite herself at the wonderful aromas of food. Derek paused for a moment, as the cook caught his eye. "What is it?"

"There was some commotion at the front awhile ago, but I don't know what happened. We were busy back here."

Meredith exchanged a worried glance with Derek, as they continued towards his office. There the door was closed, but not locked, as he normally left it. She could see his jaw clench before he turned the doorknob. "He's been here, hasn't he?" she whispered, and Derek nodded shortly.

"Stay behind me."

For a second, she rolled her eyes, as if Richard would still be here, but she knew Derek didn't want to take any chances right now. He was already pushing into his office, and Meredith gasped at the sight of the shambles that greeted them. Papers were flung over his desk, and several books had been pulled from the small wall unit. A bottle of Scotch had been smashed on the floor, along some heavy crystal glasses; the sharp odor of alcohol tainted the air.

"Oh my god," Meredith whispered. "Derek..."

He shook his head, walking across the room to where a painting had been shoved aside, revealing a wall safe. The door hung open, the contents displaced. A small white envelope was propped up against the back wall of the safe. "He took the painting," Derek muttered, snatching up the envelope. It was the same kind as before. This time the message inside was brief:

_The painting is mine. Don't bother looking for me._


End file.
